The Evil Long Forgotten
by Darth Yoshi
Summary: Wonder Woman and Troia (before "Graduation Day") investigate the murder of the Seraph in Germany. Now the story is complete - no more 6 chapters and then quitting on ya...all shall be loaded in time...
1. Prologue

The Evil Long Forgotten: Prologue

By: Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations used in this story are ©2003 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. No profit is made from this story. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

The silence of the science chamber was almost deafening as several robed men and women moved about the sterile environment with attitudes matching their surroundings. They were impassive, moving like emotionless robots in the way they carried out their tasks.

Von-Ka, chief scientist for the project, meticulously went through the preflight checklist, noting with a monotone hum that they were moving along at five percent higher efficiency than he had estimated. This was pleasing, but he did not reveal his emotion to his colleagues. Such a display would be frivolous and serve no purpose whatsoever.

"Von-Ka," Sumla said as she brought him a crystal with the current fuel mixture specifications, "today will be a great day in the history of Krypton."

"Perhaps, Sumla, or it will be a great failure. Either way, science and knowledge will progress." She nodded at the response and moved to his rear, as was her place as his subordinate. They were mated and soon they would be permitted to provide the requisite sperm and egg cells required to create a child. It was much easier that way. Had they mated in the barbaric fashion of their ancestors, Sumla would have spent nine months carrying the child, unable to work at peak efficiency. Then there would have to be a considerable resting period afterwards.

"The soil samples are ready, Von-Ka," Tea-Fu, the botanist, called out as he closed the cargo bay of the small rocket. The geneticist, Ult-El, confirmed that the seeds provided were of the correct batch. Both men stepped away from the rocket and then exited the chamber. They had other duties to perform this day and standing around awaiting the launch would be a waste of valuable time.

The project they and the other scientists in the chamber were working on was ambitious. This would be the first attempt to start a garden in the cold of space. The theory was that the non-gravity of the void would allow for unprecedented growth. Krypton was a planet of diminishing resources and the scientists were hoping to provide a means for continued growth of their society. Civilization survived on its stomach as the saying went.

"Your rocket is of unique design," one of the other scientists, a specialist in metals, commented as he handed over a crystal. Von-Ka slid it into the reader and went over the results. "Is it your own creation?"

"I was aided by a young student, Ult-El's second cousin, Jor-El. A remarkable lad." There was no flattery in the comment, only cold logic. Jor-El was destined to become one of the greatest minds Krypton had ever seen. "He provided the basic prints."

"It would appear that this ship is built for more than gardening. This is a vehicle of exploration if it were larger."

Von-Ka nodded. "Indeed. Perhaps Jor-El will be the one to establish the first Kryptonian colony."

The other scientist blanched. "Colonization would expose us to other, less developed societies. We have already explored this region of space as was confirmed by the representative of the Guardians of the Universe." It was a fact that the mysterious ring-bearer in the green uniform had confirmed that Kryptonian explorer vessels had reached out to every world within a month's journey a sub-light speed from Krypton. The Kryptonians would venture no further, preferring their isolationist policy.

"Perhaps by the time Jor-El is our age, attitudes will have changed," Von-Ka submitted.

The other man bowed his head. "I concede your point. It is better to let the lad's imagination grow at this time for it may benefit us in the future. Regardless, the design is sound and made to withstand much more than what the mission parameters require. I bid you good knowledge."

Von-Ka bowed as well. "All knowledge is good; it is the implementation that leads to evil." It was a standard exchange between the learned of Krypton. When the other man was gone, leaving Von-Ka and Sumla alone with those thoughts all explorers had just before the expedition.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

He looked at the rocket ship, a durable but crude design, made to perform its functions in the typical Kryptonian efficiency. He was also required to perform in much the same manner and so he moved to the small control room off to the side. Sumla was awaiting him having moved with quiet speed.

The door sealed and he made a final check to ensure that there were no overhead flights. Krypton had a limited military but civilian air transports were as common as oxygen molecules as many scientists were fond of saying. Satisfied that their flight path was clear, he began pressing the buttons that would start the rocket motors.

Sumla carefully annotated the checklist, checking energy levels, fuel consumption rates and others parameters as the sound began to go beyond the pain threshold for humans. The walls automatically adjusted their soundproofing to prevent any damage to the occupants.

The lift-off was without much ceremony, clouds of gray-blue smoke cheering the small craft on as it fought against the pull of Krypton's gravity. Monitors attached to high-definition holocams followed the rocket as it reached for outer space. When the ship started to move out of the camera's ideal range, computers simulated the image based upon projections previously determined by Von-Ka.

"Angle of ascent is off by point three-oh-four degrees," Sumla stated.

Von-Ka nodded and reached down to adjust the lateral thrusters. "That should take care of it. Please make a note of the adjustment so I can go back over my calculations later." Satisfied that the ship was now on the proper course, he and Sumla involved themselves with verifying many other aspects of the experiment.

A half hour later, a small buzzer and light told the scientists that the ship had reached its destination. "Prepare for engine cut-off," Sumla said.

"Fuel capacity is at three-quarters full; beginning braking sequence," Von-Ka said as he reached down for the switch. Just as his fingertips brushed against it, another alarm went off. This one was located on another panel.

"Gravity distortion," Sumla said calmly. She walked over and examined a small screen. "A gravity spike has been sensed coming from the planet."

"Impossible! That would indicate a major distortion of the planetary…"

Another klaxon was followed by the rear door opening and two other scientists coming in. They started reviewing some of the computer banks and readouts. "A wormhole is opening up!" one of them said in an uncharacteristically excited tone.

Von-Ka swore in his mind. A wormhole would disrupt the experiment and his samples would be useless.

"I am detecting a velocity spike," Sumla said and Von-Ka tried desperately to patch into one of the orbital telescopes. "It's gone," she said flatly.

"Gone?"

"Accelerated beyond light speed by last indication," she said as she printed out a detailed examination of the last few seconds. She looked it over and then handed it to Von-Ka as he finished speaking with one of the other scientists.

He reviewed it and handed it to the colleague. "I concur," the man said and then moved over to a holographic star chart. "Based upon the recorded strength of the wormhole, taking into account the tolerances of the measuring equipment…"

"Do not forget the angle of acceleration," Sumla added.

The other scientist nodded. "There are two distinct possibilities. On the high end of the tolerance it would end up in the Earth system, on the low end it would brush past Thanagar. Too far to retrieve."

Von-Ka nodded, knowing that his experiment was a failure. "We must find out where this gravity spike came from."

"There is no time," Sumla said. "We are scheduled to begin the review of the terraforming project being conducted by Jom-Ar."

"It must still be investigated," Von-Ka said, hoping to salvage something from this. He wanted to scream, but he knew he could not. He suddenly had a thought. "Young Jor-El; he could investigate it."

"A worthy project," Sumla said. The other two scientists agreed and then left. Alone, Sumla stepped up to Von-Ka and put her hand on his. It was rare that she would display so much emotion. "You are unhappy."

He nodded, admitting his emotional distress. "Knowledge is not served."

"Not yet. Perhaps you have stumbled upon something else. Chance does have a place in scientific pursuit," she offered before removing her hand.

"Luck?" he said with a small smile. "Luck is like knowledge, neither good or evil. It just matters how it is used."


	2. Chapter 1

The Evil Long Forgotten Chapter 1

By Christopher W. Blaine

(with technical assistance by Ms. Ley)

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations used in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for fan-related entertainment purposes only. No profit is made from this story. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in part or as a whole without the express permission of the author.

The staff car pulled up to the bunker, parking close to the truck that was used to bring supplies and troops into the area. The driver hurried to get out and open the rear door, allowing his passenger to step out into the snow. The passenger was clad in golden armor, a large crimson iron cross on his chest. He was a beacon of color and power in a cold, frigid nowhere.

The driver held the door until Baron Blitzkrieg was a meter away and then he fell in behind his master. The driver had been with the Baron since before the war, a loyal servant that came from a family of servants. His rank was honorary, merely something to give him some status in a country based on military order. "Warte hier draussen auf mich, Hans (_Wait for me out here, Hans_)," the Baron commanded.

The servant wordlessly obeyed, turning and moving back to the car. He would keep it running, the heater humming so that when his master returned; he would find a warm passenger cabin waiting for him.

The Baron stepped up to the door and the guard came to attention, thrusting an arm forward and shouting "Heil Hitler!" The Baron raised an arm in response and mumbled a response. The oath of National Socialism had lost its appeal on him.

He stepped inside the bunker into a passageway of cold, gray concrete lit by several overhead lights. The hall was bare except for several doors and some guards. These men did not bother to salute him and he was happy for it. Better these men concentrate on their mundane duties than the dying empire they represented.

He had no guide, nor did he need one. It had been several months since he had last been here, but the place still looked the same, still smelled the same. The air was stale and dead and he wished that the German scientists that had created his armor had put filters in it. The stench of incompetence was nauseating.

Years before, in the early days of the Reich, he had been an officer, a proud Prussian in the service of a visionary. Adolph Hitler had taken a country that had been beaten down by the treacherous Treaty of Versailles and made it into a juggernaut of sweet revenge. Europe trembled before the might of Germany and as an officer; he had been assign command over a camp of prisoners.

He had been an efficient manager, keeping the prison camp running using the most minimal of resources. Those incarcerated there protested as all did when subjected to the whims of their betters. One prisoner even went so far as to fling a vial of acid into his noble face.

How the prisoner had gotten the acid was never discovered because the Baron's men had cut the man down just before he had passed out from the pain. When he awoke, the surgeons under the control of Reichsfuhrer-SS Himmler proclaimed him the greatest achievement of the Third Reich. They renamed him and encased his body in golden armor. He would by a vengeful god of thunder, bringing the full might of the Aryan peoples upon an unsuspecting America. They christened him Baron Blitzkrieg.

"Ein lächerlicher Name, der gedacht um Angst zu erzeugen, aber nur Hohn provoziert hat (_A ridiculous name, meant to cause fear, but instead provoked scorn_)," he muttered as he moved through the passages. Several doors later he found himself standing before a large soldier holding a rifle. The Baron searched the man's eyes and noted with some satisfaction that this was not a mindless killer, but a lethal, thinking machine. The shine of innocence was still glittering in the young man's eyes; he had not been subjected to horrors of losing combat. He had never been ordered to defend a position that was not defendable. He had never been ordered to assault an allied line with no support. In truth, this young man who wished to serve his Fuehrer and country so badly would, if he were lucky, never fire his weapon in anger. The war was lost and the best anyone could hope for was to survive and father a new generation of proud Germans.

The writing had been on the wall for several months. The Baron had assumed the worst when the _Bismark_ had been lost. That ship had been the key to controlling the shipping lanes and choking the resistance out of Britain, Germany's greatest foe. Even Hitler, never a navy man, understood that without that mighty vessel, Britain would never submit. Launch all of the air attacks you wished, it didn't matter, for the English would valiantly stand up and shake their fists. Cut them off from the sea and they would whither and die. Britain was an island nation, forever tied to the waters that surrounded her. The advantage was now gone, sunk to the bottom of the Atlantic.

The loss of the _Bismark_ was not the only nail in the coffin for the cause. Hitler's two-front war had drained the Reich of its youth and even now the fuehrer was conscripting old men and children to fight a war that should never had been. Hitler's genius was in his ability to read the political scene; to understand just how far one could go before war would be declared.

Germany had, at least a few years before, the potential to become the world power, even overshadowing the liberal Americans. The Baron sighed as he realized that like so many of his countrymen, he too had been caught up in the euphoria that the early victories had brought with them. Even he had been loyal, raising his hand in salute to the man who had promised to right the wrongs of the Treaty of Versailles.

He passed by the soldier and put the young man out of his mind, entering into a brightly lit anteroom. There were two doors, one leading to the special laboratory where the experiment would take place and the other to the private room of the soldier who had volunteered. The Baron went to the second door and knocked; something he normally did not do.

"Herein (_Enter_)," a voice called from inside. The Baron turned the knob and went in. The room was decorated with many family heirlooms and treasures and he was filled with a slight sense of nostalgia. He missed his family's ancestral home for it had been destroyed in an allied bombing raid, but he was pleased to see how much had survived. "Wilkommen, Vetter (_Welcome, cousin_)," the voice said with delight.

The Baron turned to regard his relation. The man was as tall as him, though half his age with a full head of blond hair offset by cool blue eyes. He was clad only in his shorts and his well-muscled features glistened with sweat. Here was the perfect German as Himmler had touted. The Baron always found it strange the way Himmler and Hitler both spoke of great virtues that neither possessed. "Ich sehe, dass Du immer noch gerne boxt (_I see that you still like to box_)," the Baron remarked, indicating the punching bag that was still swinging from use.

The man smiled, his perfect teeth glistening in the light. "Es ist meine Pflicht asl Deutscher Soldat in hervcorragender Physischer Verfassung zu bleiben. Vielleicht hast Du Lust Deine metallene Haut abzulegen und einen Kampf mit mir zu wagen (_It is my duty as a German soldier to remain in peak physical condition. Perhaps you would like to shed that metal skin and join me in a match_)?" It was an honest invitation, but the Baron refused with a wave of his hand. He slowly walked around the wooden bookcases, examining several volumes. He reached for one weathered tome and pulled it down. It was a three hundred year old book, written in Latin. It had been a favorite of his as a child.

Here in this small room was what was left of his family fortune. Not the wealth that bankers counted but the wealth of tradition and history. This war, this pursuit of something greater than himself, had cost him nearly everything that had defined him before his accident. He was tired of ceremony, hand raising and shouting to a leader that was no longer fit to lead. "Du scheinst besorgt, Vetter (_You seem troubled, cousin_)."

"Sage mir, Heinrich (_Tell me, Heinrich_)," the Baron started as he put the book back up, "was denkst Du über das was heute Nacht geschehen wird (_what are your thoughts about what is to happen this night_)?"

Heinrich straightened and reached for his undershirt. "Ich werde die größte Waffe dieses Reiches (_I will become the greatest weapon of the Reich_)." He paused and then let a wry grin cross his face. "Ausser Dir natuerlich (_Except for you, of course_)."

"Beschaeme mich nicht, wir sind Familie, kein Grund fuer falsche Komplimente (_Do not flatter me; we are family, there are no pretenses here_)," the Baron said as he stepped up to his dressing relative. He reached down and ran a thumb over the decorations that adorned Heinrich's black uniform shirt. "Glaubst Du wirklich, das was auch immer Du heute nacht tun wirst, das was Geschehen wird aendert (_Do you really believe that anything that you do tonight will change the events about to unfold_)?"

The younger man accepted the shirt and put it on, smoothing it out before he grabbed the trousers. "Es scheint Du hast etwas schweres auf dem Herzen, also lass uns als Familie miteinander reden (_It would seem that something weighs heavily upon your mind, so let us speak as family_)." He leaned in close and added, "Ich kenne die Reihenfolge meiner Loyalitaeten, Vetter (_I know the order of my loyalties, cousin_)."

The Baron moved across the room and checked that the door was locked. Slowly, he turned to face his cousin, who was now putting on the high boots. "Der Krieg ist verloren. Deutschland wird entweder erdrückt von den Bolschevisken, eine Puppen-Regierung der Alliierten , oder schlimmer noch, geteilt in beides. Hitler steht am Rande des Wahnsinns; jeden Tag werden die Auswirkungen von Angst und Verwirrung deutlicher (_The war is lost. Germany will be either squashed under the Bolsheviks, a puppet government of the allies or worse, split into both. Hitler is on the brink of madness; each day the quakes of fear and confusion become more apparent_)." The disgust he felt at the confession outweighed any lingering thoughts of loyalty to the fuehrer.

"Ich muss dich warnen, Baron, dass ich ein Offizier der Gestapo, der Geheimen Staatspolizei (_I must warn you, Baron, that I am an officer in the Gestapo, the Geheime Staats Polizei_)…"

"Erinnere dich an deine Loyalitäten, Vetter (_Remember your loyalties, cousin_)," the Baron growled. "Ich spreche nicht davon das Vaterland zu verlassen, aber Dir muss klarwerden, dass es erledigt ist (_I am not advocating deserting the Fatherland, but you have to be made to see that it is done for now_)."

"Herr Himmler denkt anders. Er glaubt, dass ich der Speer sein werde, der das Herz der Juden-Freunde in England und Amerika durchstößt (_Herr Himmler thinks otherwise. He believes that I can be the spear point that pierces the heart of the Jew-lovers in America and Britain_)!" He shook his head and reached for his pistol belt. "Deine Bemühungen haben den Weg dafür bereitet, Vetter! Durch dich haben wir das Wissen über die Fähigkeiten der Alliierten Supermänner (_Your efforts have paved the way for this, cousin! Through you we have gained knowledge of the abilities of the allied supermen_)!"

"Himmler ist ein Arsch! Ein Schullehrer der versucht sich in die Angelegenheiten seiner Herren zu mischen! (_Himmler is an ass! A schoolteacher trying to involve himself in the matters of his betters_!)" The Baron took a deep breath; he had to convince his cousin of the merits of his argument. "Die Prinzipien des Dritten Reiches koennen immer noch ueberleben! Macht durch Zucht und Abstammung; Macht durch Taktik und Timing! Rassenreinheit, Loyalitaet, fealty (_The principles of the Third Reich can still live on! Power through breeding and ancestry; power through tactics and timing! Racial purity, loyalty, fealty_)…"

"Und Du glaubst, das Du die Person bist, die Deutschland in diesen Kampf fuehren kann, Vetter (_And you believe that you are the person to lead Germany in this battle, cousin_)?"

"Warum sich mit einem Reich abgeben, wenn Du die ganze Welt beherrschen kannst (_Why settle for a an empire when you can rule the world_)?"

Heinrich paused as he buckled his belt and he looked long and hard at the man in the golden armor. Behind that mask was a man whom he used to look up to as a child. He remembered the handsome face and the long nights of political and intellectual debate with other family members. He had thought the Baron a most intelligent man and that still held true.

It had been the Baron who had convinced Heinrich to volunteer for the Atoman Project once he had heard about it. It had been the Baron who had gone to Himmler personally to request, no demand, that Heinrich be the first of the new German super-soldiers. Now he knew why. "Du sprichst von Verrat (_You speak treason_)."

"Ich spreche die Wahrheit (_I speak the truth_)," the Baron replied as he looked over a framed photograph of Hitler. There was the impassive face, a face devoid of emotion, the true image of their leader. Luckily, he had found someone new to inspire him.

He had not gone looking for a new fuehrer, but one had found him. A man who had the ability to radiate cold, silent power. A man who was able to inspire by his voice and not his words. A man who did not blame a single group of people for the woes of the nobility, but acknowledged that it was the powerful that had allowed the world to degenerate to the point it was at now.

If there was going to be change, it required a cleansing and only the strongest would be able to survive it. "Sage mir, Heinrich, was planst Du, sollte das Experiment erfolreich verlaufen (_Tell me, Heinrich, what you plan to do if the experiment is successful_)?"

"Mir wurde gesagt, das ich so maechtig wie die Green Lantern werde, vielleicht sogar staerker! Ohne ihre Helden wird Amerika fallen (_I have been told I will be as powerful as the Green Lantern, stronger perhaps! Without their heroes, the Americans will fall_)!" Heinrich straightened the swastika band on his arm. "Ihr Kampfgeist wird sterben (_Their will to fight will be lost_)."

"Herr im Himmel rette mich vor Narren! Du glaubst doch nicht wirklich diesen Unsinn den Goring verbreitet? Wie viele Alliierte Supermänner hast Du in Europa gesehen, Heinrich (_God in Heaven save me from fools! You can't believe that rubbish Goring is sputtering! How many allied supermen have you seen in Europe, Heinrich_)?" The young SS officer looked troubled as he searched his memory. It was true; not since America had entered the war had a single allied costumed adventurer dared to come to the front lines. He could not know, but the Baron did, that Adolph Hitler and the Japanese Dragon King had used mystical items to create a barrier around their conquered lands that would make any "metahuman" their slave. Immediately after Pearl Harbor, the members of the Justice Society had found this out firsthand. "Ich habe die Amerikaner bekaempft, die Kostuemierten und die Uniformierten. Wir wurden geschlagen durch Mut und (_I have fought the Americans, both the costumed ones and the ones in uniform. We are being beaten because of bravery and_)…"

"Was? Bessere Taktik, Vetter (_What? Better tactics, cousin_)?" Heinrich said, not wanting to listen. The Baron knew that this would be difficult. Heinrich had always believed in the power of National Socialism, had always believed in the dreams of the new Aryan brotherhood. He had been raised listening not just to debates, but also to the sufferings of the peasantry as Germany was looted and raped by the victors of World War 1. The allies had left Germany devastated and then laughed about it, allowing the feelings of hatred to fester.

"Abnutzung, Vetter, wir haben einfach nicht das Arbeitspotential um die Welle der Alliierten zu vernichten, die auf Berlin zurollt (_Attrition, cousin; we simply do not have the manpower to defeat the wave of allies approaching Berlin_)," the Baron said. He moved across the room, pacing as he spoke. It was a habit from his college days when he and his wealthy friends would debate the merits of the feudal system. "Wir haben keine Superwaffen. Die V-2 funktioniert nicht so, wie wir hofften, die Amerikaner werden bald die Atombombe haben, die wir gerne haetten (_We have no super weapons. The V-2 does not work the way we had hoped, the Americans will soon have the atomic bomb we coveted_)…" He stopped, noting that Heinrich was now starting to nod. It wasn't an agreement to join, but simply an indication that he was listening and not just humoring his cousin.

"Ich höre deine Worte, und sie beruehren mein Herz, aber ich glaube an das Reich (_I hear your words, and they stir my heart, but I must believe in the Reich_)." Heinrich looked over into the mirror and adjusted his hair. "Ich habe dem Fuehrer einen Eid geschworen (_I swore an oath to the fuehrer_)."

"Wie ich auch, aber ein Eid geschworen in Not ist kein wahrer Eid. Es gibt Andere, die deiner Ergebenheit wuerdiger sind (_As did I, but an oath made in haste is not a true oath. There are others more worthy of our allegiance_)." The Baron threw another glance at the photograph of the leader of Germany. He was now severing his ties to the old world.

"Wer (_Who_)? Roosevelt? Stalin?"

"Ra's Al Ghul."

Heinrich visibly blanched at the Arabic name. Like many of the aristocracy, he was fluent in several languages. "'Der Kopf des Daemons'? Du willst einem Kult beitreten, Vetter? Du bist ein teutonischer Ritter (_'__The Head of the Demon'? You wish to join a cult, cousin? You are Teutonic Knight_)!"

"Das sind nicht die verdammten Kreuzzuege! Wir sprechen über das Ueberleben einer Art zu Leben (_These are not the damn Crusades! We are talking about the survival of a way of life_)!" The Baron clenched his fists. "Du und ich sind uns sehr aehnlich, Heinrich! Du bist meine Familie, wir sind Nachkommen der Juenger von Christus persoenlich (_You and I are so much alike, Heinrich! You are my family; we are descended from the Disciples of Christ himself_)." It was a myth propagated by the nobility of Europe for centuries. The humorous part was that the wealthy were the only ones who believed it.

Heinrich slowly headed to the door. The Baron could tell he was thinking of something. "Unsere Unterhaltung bleibt unter uns, Vetter. Aber Herr Himmler hat ueberall Spione (_Our conversation remains with us, cousin; but Herr Himmler has spies everywhere_)."

"Ueberdenke meine Worte, Heinrich (_Consider my words, Heinrich_)," the Baron pleaded.

Heinrich nodded and then turned, threw out his arm and cried out. "Heil Hitler! Lang lebe das Vaterland (_Hiel Hitler! Long live the Fatherland_)!"

The Baron returned the salute. "Lang lebe das Vaterland (_Long live the Fatherland_)," he said quietly. The omission of the tribute to the fuehrer was not lost on the young officer. He turned and exited the room, leaving Baron Blitzkrieg alone with his thoughts and memories.


	3. Chapter 2

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 2

By Christopher W. Blaine

(with technical assistance by Ms. Ley)

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

Ra's Al Ghul sniffed the glass of wine. The scent was familiar enough, a vintage bottled in 1879, most likely with his own hands. That year had been a time of reflection for him as he pondered the approaching twentieth century. Now, that century had gone the way of the dinosaur, deep into obscurity and was only a footnote for historians to debate on the news shows.

His companion this night held a glass as well, but in a trembling hand. Wine already stained the blanket that covered the other man's legs and Ra's considered it such a waste that something of such rarity should be wasted so. Out of civility, he toasted his associate's good health and received a wheeze and cough as a reply.

Outside a Lazarus Pit was being prepared. The bath of sacred chemicals had kept Ra's alive and youthful for centuries. Occasionally, he felt charitable towards certain members of humankind and bestowed his gifts upon them. Tonight was one such night.

"Drink my friend, savor the sting of the grape as it travels down your withered throat. Relish the pain. In a few short hours, that pain will be nothing but a memory." He looked over and saw his companion sip with wrinkled dry lips at the glass. Even though the other man's body had failed him, the Head of the Demon could feel a strong presence radiating out.

The shriveled corpse of a man in the wheelchair, with the scarred face and spotted scalp, still seemed to project an air of authority. That authority and the man's general view of the world was what had endeared him to Ra's so many years ago.

The old man tried to speak, but the wine seemed to have dried out his tongue. Ra's raised a hand. "We will speak later, my friend, when you are whole again and ready to continue your work. You and I are very much alike; we both see that mankind needs to be weeded, like a garden. If the crop is to be good, then the dying and sick plants must be pulled out by the roots. Perhaps the bounty will be less, but it will be much more satisfying." He set his wine glass down and in an act so uncharacteristic of him; Ra's walked over and carefully removed the glass from the older man's hand.

As if on cue, the door to the study opened and a strikingly beautiful woman strode in. Her long dark hair and Mediterranean looks put an aura of the exotic about her. She walked up to Ra's and kissed him gently on the cheek. "May I take our guest now, Father?" she asked.

Without a word, he nodded his consent, but not before putting a gentle squeeze on the shoulder of the old man. When the woman and the man had left the room, Ra's set the wine glasses down and proceeded to the fireplace where he kept a box of cigars. Grabbing a large Cuban, he lit the tobacco from a gold lighter and found his favorite chair.

Glancing at the wall mounted Swiss clock, he saw that it was nearing midnight. It would be several hours before his friend would rejoin him and he wished for something to occupy his time. He supposed that he could formulate some new plan to humiliate the Detective, the Batman of Gotham City, one of his few worthy opponents.

He could also plan his revenge against the criminal Bane, the man who had traveled the world destroying several Lazarus Pits. It really didn't matter as he had far more pits than even he could remember.

Relishing his cigar, he decided instead to simply enjoy his vice next to the fireplace and leave it at that.

The man that walked slowly into the room several hours later was drenched in sweat, but was otherwise the picture of health. The dip into the rejuvenating bath of the Lazarus Pit caused temporary insanity and the man had been locked away for his own good until the effects wore off. The special room that had to be constructed had cost the Head of the Demon several million dollars, but it would be worth it if his resurrected companion could now complete his life mission.

Clad in a silk robe and matching slippers, he looked more like a Hollywood movie star than someone who was almost one hundred years old. Even his scars had healed, revealing a strong European jaw line and deep blue eyes. When the man spoke, it was with a voice of authority. "Ich weiss nicht, wie ich mich fuer Deine Guetigkeit erkenntlich zeigen kann (_I do not know how I can repay you for your kindness_)," he said, spreading his arms. "Ich stehe fuer immer in Deiner Schuld (_I am forever in your debt_)."

"English, please," Ra's said. "We need to work on removing your accent if you hope to ever fit into the 21st century society." Ra's moved over to the breakfast table that his servants had set up and invited his guest to eat with him. "You must be famished," Ra's said, grabbing a pastry.

"It has been decades since I could eat solid food," the man said, reaching for the pancakes. His English was good, but there was a hint of a German accent to it.

"Your English is very good," Ra's commented. He then said something in his native Arabic. The man smiled and gave him a reply that contained no hint of accent. "Your command of languages indicates the superiority of your intellect."

"My family ensured that I had the best education," the man commented in between bites. "I attended several schools before I received my commission. I was immediately promoted through the ranks based more upon my knowledge of foreign peoples then my political standing. However, my family's government connections did serve me well."

"Ah, yes, your family background. Prussian aristocracy wasn't it? There are not very many of those pedigrees around anymore. Reminds me of more civilized times." Ra's reached for another pastry and some coffee. "Will you be using your family name in your second life?"

The man reached for the blueberry syrup. "No. I will use another name. My estates were long ago transferred to the government. I have pride in my ancestry, but there is no need to use it anymore."

"Have you tested to see if your powers have returned? I understand you lost the use of them when you had your first stroke." Ra's was very interested in this because it would further document the effects of the Lazarus treatments. Normally, any person who was exposed to the chemicals would see old wounds heal; metahumans often reacquired old powers. The Black Canary, a one-time lover of Ra's, had her Canary Cry ability returned to her.

"I fear that it will be sometime before I can even try as I have not only been out of practice, but I need to eat and gain my strength." It was obvious that the man was as anxious as Ra's was, but his answer made sense. It had been at least forty years since the man had tried to even fly, let alone use any of the other abilities he had.

"If I may be indulged with presenting you with another gift," Ra's said as he picked up a silver bell. He rang it once and the man protested, stating that his host's attentions were embarrassing him.

"I am a pauper, come to kneel before your throne; I am unworthy of your gifts," the man said.

Ra's smiled, appreciating the genuine humbleness the man was displaying. The door opened and a man dressed in servant's clothing came in with a large bundle in his arms. Approaching slowly, he laid the bundle down on the floor just in front of the two men and after bowing, left quietly. "Please, my friend, open it."

The man set his fork down and wiped his mouth with an embroidered handkerchief. Getting up, the man walked over and opened the bundle, slowly peeling away the brown wrappings. When he had it opened he gasped and Ra's saw him trembling as he reached in. When the man turned, there were tears in his eyes. "I thought it destroyed so many years ago…"

"It isn't the original, but I had my operatives find the original designs in the KGB files. You would be surprised what the Russians collected when Berlin fell." Ra's invited him to continue his repast. "I'm not sure if it will fit, so please do not hesitate to ask to have it altered."

The man dabbed at the tears in his eyes and ran a hand over his scalp. It would take some time for the hair to grow back. "Please, tell me what I can do to repay you. Give me any task, any wish…"

"All I ask is that you continue your work. You simply had a run of bad luck…"

The man snorted. "Bad luck named Wonder Woman! That Amazon whore!"

Ra's tilted his head to the side. "I don't think I've ever heard her described that way. She was the last hero you battled?"

The man nodded and reached for some coffee. "Yes…she destroyed my armor and beat me senseless because I underestimated her."

"It happens. For all of my amassed knowledge and power, even I underestimate the heroes at times. It does make the game interesting." Ra's finished his meal and stood up to walk out on the balcony. "Please, continue to eat, my friend. You must regain your strength so that you can get to work."

The Head of the Demon looked at the sun rising over the German horizon and inhaled the morning air. Today he was staring a new path and he was looking forward the seeing where it led. He turned to his companion. "You never did tell me the full story of you humbling defeat."

"Berlin had fallen," the man began, his mind drifting back to the horrible days when Soviet rockets rained down on the capital of the country he had loved so much. Germany had been so strong only a few years before, full of life and vigor. Babies were being born by the literal truckload, flowers were blooming seemingly all year long and every German citizen had a small hop in their step.

All of that had changed so quickly. The air raids became as common as the sunrise and Germany soon found itself alone. Italy had fallen and Japan was once again sinking into its isolationist way of life. Germany had been left, once again, to the whims of the allies.

He was reminded, briefly, of a conversation he had once had with a former Gestapo officer in Chili. It had been some years after the war and Odessa had managed to smuggle many officers and their families out of Europe to South America. The two men had been relaxing under the shade of a tree, sipping the local coffee. The man had started talking about the siege of Berlin.

"Stalins Raketen waren wie Sperma und Berlin war das Ei (_Stalin's rockets were like sperm and Berlin was the egg_)," he joked.

In a way, that had been exactly the case. It was from those assaults that the bastard twins of East and West Germany had been born. The reunification of his beloved homeland in the latter half of the 20th century had brought him great joy.

He continued his tale. "I had managed to secret myself out of Europe. Thanks to my ruined visage," he said, rubbing the new pink skin on his face, "I looked like a war veteran. I used a French accent."

"Nobody ever suspects the French," Ra's said, smiling. "Did I ever tell you how an entire French army surrendered to me, a leper and a donkey? No? I digress, please continue."

The man sat back, full of pastry. "I was hoping to simply disappear into America until I could contact you, but I ran out of funds. I was reduced to common thievery."

"Regrettable; why did you not use the Odessa like so many of your comrades?" Ra's asked.

"I wanted nothing to do with them. I only went to South America because I tired of speaking the gutter-speak of America. After the Jews captured Herr Eichmann, I made good my escape back to Europe." He sighed. His life, since the war, had been nothing but running, running from a past that, had it not been in the hands of a madman, would be the gestation of the present.

"So, in your haste to get funds, you ran afoul of Wonder Woman?"

"Yes; you should have seen her face when I appeared before her in all of my splendor! 'Baron Blitzkrieg' she had cried out in disbelief. It was laughable. My defeat at her hands, however, was not." He got up and moved over to the window. The rising sun burned his eyes, but he continued to look anyway. He was a noble; the sun would have to avert its gaze from him.

"But you escaped her," Ra's offered.

"Barely, but yes, though I lost my armor," he said, but then he looked over to the gift that Ra's had presented to him. "Again, you have my thanks."

"It will serve you well, I hope." Ra's commented. He then decided to probe a little more. The Baron had come under his wing in the early 1940's and had remained a true ally through the decades. Though his body had ultimately failed him, the Baron had often times tried to use his tactical genius to aid the Head of the Demon.

Ra's recalled how he and the Baron had met in a small café in occupied Paris. Ra's had used his relationship with the former king of England, Edward, a supposed sympathizer of National Socialism, to get in good with many German industrialists of the time. New technology had always interested Ra's and in the 1930's, Germany had been on the forefront of such things.

Ra's was able to travel all around the world and though he was not blond-haired and blue-eyed, his money and influence allowed him to be free from harassment. Not that it had mattered anyway because he had operatives watching him everywhere he went. The French at that time feared the Gestapo; the Gestapo would have been well advised to fear Ra's Al Ghul.

At that little café, as the Baron, clad in his golden armor, surrounded by armed guards and the ever-faithful Hans had been sipping plain black coffee. Parisians would walk by and whisper and point until a guard pointed the muzzle of a machinegun in their direction. Ra's had braved the weapons and sat down, introducing himself.

From that point, the two men discovered that they shared a common goal and unique vision of the world. A new order was needed, one by which the strong ruled over the less strong, not the weak. Hitler had intrigued Ra's and enraptured the Baron, but as the war progressed, Ra's began to recognize that while Hitler's flame had burned brightly, it could not be sustained. It required fuel and the fuehrer had used poor wood in his fire.

Whenever Hitler had seen true genius in his followers, he did not cultivate it, he cut it out. The final straw for the Baron had been the elimination of his friend, Erwin Rommell. He realized then, that if he ever were successful against the American and British supermen, he would then be considered a liability. He had held no illusions that Himmler would personally come after him if given the order.

Together, Ra's and the Baron had begun to hatch a plan to use the scientific achievements of the Third Reich to promote their vision. They decided not to pursue other German heroes such as Captain Nazi and instead tried to recruit the best scientists and military minds the country had to offer.

Then came the Atoman Project.

"You will seek out your cousin, then?" Ra's asked. "You still believe him to be alive?"

The Baron nodded and went over to the golden armor. He ran his hand over it. "I know he is alive. Had the Soviets found him, then I am sure Stalin or Khrushchev would have employed the technology." He shook his head. "I cannot believe that the Americans would have taken him."

"There was that uproar over the super-heroes in the 50's," Ra's commented. "Perhaps their CIA has your cousin hidden away with Kennedy's brain and Elvis?" He saw the hurt look come over the Baron's face. "I do not mean to make light of your quest, my friend. Indeed, I am willing to provide as much support as I can."

"You have gotten the information, then?"

Ra's went over to a table and opened a drawer. He pulled out a package and examined it for a second. "You will probably be disappointed."

The Baron walked over and took the package and went back to the table. He slowly opened it and pulled out the contents. He reviewed it very quickly while Ra's decided to have an early morning cigar. "This is gibberish," the Baron finally said. "It looks like a cross between Hebrew, Japanese and Greek! Is this…is this Pig Latin?" He threw the papers on the floor. Ra's said nothing, but instead let the Baron have his fit of rage.

After a few minutes, the Baron regained his composure and took a cigarette from a case made from a human skull. He choked at first, realizing that his new lungs had never enjoyed the dark flavor of nicotine. He would get to go through the entire experience of becoming addicted all over again. "I should have guessed the good doctor would put his notes in such a manner. Only he would be able to translate them."

Ra's nodded. "Or else if someone, someone very learned and well-connected, spent several years researching the doctor and his work…"

The Baron's face brightened. All was not lost yet.


	4. Chapter 3

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 3

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

The exotic eyes of Wonder Woman darted back and forth from one monitor to another as her razor-sharp mind took in the information being displayed and then laid it out in an orderly fashion. There was a unique air about her; her aura was that of something beyond human yet full of compassion.

She possessed a flawless body, crafted from clay by her mother's own hands. It was not the body of a super-model, but more like one of an ultra-super-model, yet she did not carry the arrogance that many beautiful women had. She knew she had physical beauty, but she was someone who was more concerned with the inner self. Her people paid very little attention to the outer trappings and ever since she had arrived in the so-called Man's World, she had been bemused at people's fascination with her looks.

It was only in the company of her fellow super-heroes that she found people who were willing to accept as more than eye-candy. Here they valued her knowledge of history and geography, her battle skills and her willingness to listen and advise. Certainly there was some physical attraction, but that was to be expected when healthy, well-adjusted adults worked together. The most powerful and honorable men in the universe surrounded her, so it was natural for her to sometimes allow her eyes to wander.

There was no time for those thoughts this day she reminded herself. She was trying to coordinate two different JLA teams from their headquarters, the Watchtower, on the moon. Superman and Green Lantern were working on saving victims of a flood in Alabama, while Plastic Man led several reserve members on a hunt to look for a sighting of the Star Sapphire. It was highly unlikely that it was she, but one never knew and it was prudent to check it out.

Plastic Man had whined about having to lead the reserve members and many of the reserve members had griped as well. Wonder Woman had politely pointed out that the League charter required that any missions were to be headed by active members before senior reservists. So far, it seemed to be going well but she was keeping an eye on the monitor and an ear on the communications between Plastic Man's team.

The Martian Manhunter, a tall, green humanoid with bulging muscles, stood behind her and closed his eyes. He was using his telepathic abilities to maintain a link between himself and Superman, advising both Wonder Woman and Green Lantern as necessary. She was thankful to have his company this day. Too often, she spent many hours alone up on the moon. The allure of looking at the Earth on the horizon had lost its appeal several months before.

She had considered inviting someone up to keep her company and had just about decided it was time for her and Donna to catch up when the emergencies happened. Donna Troy was a fellow super-hero and Diana's twin sister, created through magic and then lost to Wonder Woman for many years. Because of the circumstances surrounding Donna's disappearance, there was a slight age difference between the two women and that had led to some barriers. Donna, as Wonder Girl, had been living in this world outside the paradise of the Amazons for several years and Diana was still a relative newcomer in comparison.

In recent weeks, Diana had been trying to get closer to her sister. It was a trade-off of sorts as Donna was interested in learning more about her Amazon heritage and Diana wanted to have a confidant.

"Perhaps you should still invite her," the Martian Manhunter said, smiling.

"Find anything interesting in there?" she asked, her voice heavy with her accent. It was something akin to Greek.

"You think things through too much sometimes."

"Says the man who stares out into space for hours on end," she replied.

He shrugged. "I was raised looking at the stars; they are my companions, my link to the past. Your sister is your link."

"The past is sacred to your people, is it not?" she asked.

"Is it not so with yours? The past is nothing more than the beginnings of the present. How can you understand where you are now if you cannot comprehend where you have been?" He opened his eyes and looked down at her. She seemed to feel his eyes boring into the back of her head and she turned to regard him. Even he, as a Martian, found her appearance inspiring. "You should call."

"I should not think so much around a telepath," she explained with a wry grin.

"You have pure thoughts, Diana."

"You haven't caught them when I watch Batman work out," she snickered before turning back around.

"I mean that there is no corruption to your thoughts. You're internal expression is enlightening. It is much like linking with Superman." The Manhunter closed his eyes again and then sighed. "That is good. All of the victims of the flood have been rescued. Superman is leaving Green Lantern in charge while he returns to Metropolis."

"That is good…eh?" she questioned as a third monitor came to life. The floating animated head of Oracle appeared on the screen. The real person, Barbara Gordon, was on the Earth, secreted away in her private apartment in Gotham City. As Oracle, she headed the Birds of Prey investigative group and was a reserve member of the Justice League. And she did all of this from a wheelchair.

"Wonder Woman, forgive the intrusion, please," the animation said.

Diana changed her chin-mike's channel to the third monitor. "Go ahead, Oracle, I'm listening."

"I just got wind of a report going to the United Nations Security Council regarding a situation in Germany." The image flickered slightly and then continued. "My German isn't so good, but it sounds like one of the Global Guardians has been murdered."

Wonder Woman handed the green-haired woman with the olive skin another tissue. She thanked the Amazing Amazon in her native Spanish and blew her nose hard. She had been upset ever since Wonder Woman had broken the news to her. She had wished that Booster Gold had been here to soften the blow, but he was busy helping Plastic Man. Regardless of circumstance, the business of justice and protecting the peace had to go on.

"Did you know him well?" Wonder Woman asked.

The woman shrugged. "As well as any of the others; I was really only close to Tora, but it is still sad. From what I remember of him, he was a gentle man." Despite the frail image she currently projected, the woman was in fact a former member of the Justice League in good standing. As Fire, she had served several years with the team when it was under less-than-perfect management. As the Green Fury, she had represented her native Brazil in the Global Guardians.

The Global Guardians was a loosely organized group of super-heroes from several countries around the world. Because most heroes came from America, many other solitary heroes did not benefit from many of the resources available in the United States. Both Fire and former member Ice had been enlisted from the Guardians for the League. Ice, or Tora, to her friends, had been killed while on active duty with the League.

After that, most of the other members of that incarnation of the Justice League had drifted away to rediscover themselves. Fire and Booster Gold, another former member, had begun to develop a romantic relationship when their team had disbanded. Seeing that she now lived in Brazil where she worked as a model and actress and he remained in the United States, it was a pretty safe bet that their passion for each other had cooled.

Still, he had been the one to know her best and Wonder Woman was faced with a difficult situation. The United Nations security council had been informed by the Berlin police that the body of a man identified as the Seraph, the national hero of Israel, had been found in some woods several kilometers outside the city. The Seraph was a member of the Global Guardians and his death, especially in Germany of all places, had serious implications.

Wonder Woman had been officially designated, because of her status as a UN ambassador, to investigate the matter, since it was believed only another metahuman could have taken down the Seraph. She needed to get as much information out of Fire that she could before she could proceed.

The problem was that the death of the Seraph had triggered memories of the death of Ice and now the Brazilian hero was, like many humans, in throes of grief. The Martian Manhunter, who had led Fire's team, had left to get some water and was now walking back in to monitor room. He handed the glass to Fire and then pulled Wonder Woman to the side.

Wonder Woman possessed some limited telepathic ability and the two of them conversed through their minds. "She is in no condition to help out. Tora's death truly devastated her and she realizes it cost her membership in the League and her relationship with Booster."

Wonder Woman nodded. "I don't feel comfortable going to Germany to investigate this myself; I'm not a detective, but the German government was quite clear that they would not allow the Batman to enter the country, or Aquaman."

"I can't believe that the rift between Atlantis and Germany is that wide still," the Martian Manhunter thought.

"On the surface it isn't, but there is still a lot of resentment for the war. German naval forces decimated allied shipping and a lot of the vessels that were sunk fell onto Atlantean colonies and dwellings." Wonder Woman sighed. "The Atlanteans have been demanding reparations for the past decade. They asked for the same thing from Japan and received them, but Germany says that if Atlantis had made itself and it's waters known, then the situations could have been avoided."

"Idiotic political rhetoric. On Mars we didn't have such things."

"Yes, but look what happened to your people because the dialogue was stymied by one party. The White Martians devastated your planet through war. As long as the parties are talking to each other, then there is hope for a diplomatic solution."

The Martian Manhunter conceded the verbal argument to her and then suggested she ask her sister to go. "Certainly they would not disapprove of her, given that her nationality is now a matter of public record. Germany and Themyscira are on excellent terms are they not?"

"Yes, it's true. Themyscira is enjoying our trade relationship with the European Union," she tapped her chin with a forefinger. "Donna does have some practical investigative skills, but she's no Batman."

"I suppose I could ask the Elongated Man to join you," the Manhunter suggested.

"That will not be necessary, J'onn," Wonder Woman said out loud. She then moved over to comfort Fire some more.

"Germany?"

"They have requested Justice League aid in the investigation. Both the German and Israeli governments want to keep this low key otherwise they would ask Superman to help out," Wonder Woman said from her side of the communication.

Donna Troy, the former Wonder Girl, the former Darkstar and current Titan scratched her head. She looked a mess having been up all night working on a photo layout for a major magazine. Unlike her sister, Donna survived by working, not on the funds supplied by their mother's government. Of course, she didn't really consider Hippolyta her actual mother.

A victim of the magics of the Dark Angel, a World War 2 foe of the queen, Donna's life was split into a thousand alternate realities when she was still a child. Each of these realities had a Donna Troy who was destined to live a miserable life, a life full of tragedy. The spell had originally been meant for Diana.

In this reality, this true timeline, Donna had been adopted, ignorant of her true heritage. Her mother was not the queen of the Amazons. "It sort of sounds like fun, but I have so much work to do…"

"Can you finish it?" Diana asked, hopeful.

Donna had to admit that she really did want to spend some more time with Diana. As children, they had been playmates and as time went on, more and more of those memories were coming back to her. She had always admired Diana and now that they had a true connection, she wanted to explore it. "Maybe I should ask Dick to come along?" she asked, referring to Nightwing, the former partner of the Batman and a fellow Titans.

"No Dick on this adventure I'm afraid," Wonder Woman replied. The Germans had also been quite clear about anyone associated with the Batman. They weren't sure if they could be trusted.

Donna started laughing. "I don't know if I want to go then!"

Wonder Woman gave her a blank stare and then figured out what she had said. She blushed. "I guess I don't think about things like that as often as you do, little sister."

"Shoot, put me in a room with Superman for five minutes and I'll think of more than that!"

"He's married," was the quick response and Donna got the idea that there was a slight twinge of regret there.

"I only want to borrow him," Donna said, having made up her mind. "Okay, okay; do we fly in your jet or mine?"

"I thought it would be nice to fly with the people. In today's times, it is important to show solidarity with the people we protect. We can't make it seem as if we won't fly in the same planes as them."

"Sure; give me a couple of hours to get cleaned up, shave my legs…I'll have to call Dick…"

Wonder Woman burst out in laugh and Donna just shook her head before finishing her sentence. "To tell him I won't be available for Titans duty for the next few days."

The Amazing Amazon blushed again. "Sorry. I thought we were still talking dirty."

"You don't get out much, do you?" Donna asked.

"Yes, I just think about different things is all."

"Call me at noon," Donna said before saying good-bye.


	5. Chapter 4

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 4

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

The two dark-haired women sitting next to each other were the center of attention for most of the male passengers on the airliner. Several boyfriends and husbands were busy receiving sinister looks and slaps as their attention was instinctively drawn to the women.

"I guess we should be happy we aren't flying in costume," Donna Troy said.

Diana smiled and sipped from her tonic water. "I have found that it really doesn't matter. Women are designed to be appealing to a man whether we are naked or dressed in a parka. You either learn to accept it or allow it to rule you."

"That's quite a philosophy for the only woman in the Justice League. So you don't think that the boys at the Watchtower wouldn't stare just a little bit more if you came to the meeting in the buff?" Donna looked inside the empty package of peanuts and was instantly disgusted. How they could call eight peanuts a snack, she would never know.

"Well, you might have a point," Diana replied with a wicked grin. She did briefly have a flash of amusement as she imagined the looks on Superman and Batman as she strolled into a meeting with nothing on but her magic lasso. "It's important not to draw too much attention to ourselves for this mission."

"Diana, we're celebrities. I can't even begin to imagine the reason why we haven't been recognized." Donna glanced to her right, where two teenage boys had been whispering and giggling to each other for an hour. Donna was inclined to go over and smack them silly, but she realized she would be breaking several international laws, not to mention raising the ire of the sky marshall.

As Troia, she was a member of the Titans, and therefore a super-hero, which meant she wasn't allowed to hit boys with overactive hormones just for looking. That didn't stop her from fantasizing about it.

"Probably because most of them aren't looking at our faces when we're in costume," Diana replied. She was also annoyed at the two young men. She understood that puberty was a difficult time for young men, but did it have to be so difficult for grown women as well? She decided that the best approach was to be direct. Men seemed to shy away from direct women. "Excuse me boys?" she started, leaning forward and tossing her hair back. "My sister and I were wondering if you were interested in us?"

Donna didn't say anything although she almost choked. The boy nearest her smirked and rubbed the three hairs growing on his chin. "Yeah, we'd like to get into the both of ya," he replied. Donna was immediately reminded of her teammate Roy Harper and how he had used to act when he was that age. It had been so charming when she was younger and dumber.

"Well, can you tell me why we should let you?"

The two boys lost their smiles and stammered for a few moments. Donna caught on and spoke next. "Yes, I mean what can you offer us that other men can't?"

The other boy cracked out a reply. "We can make you feel good…"

Diana nodded and then bit her bottom lip. "What if you get us pregnant? You do have jobs, right? My sister and I are used to a certain lifestyle."

"What about medical insurance? Retirement?"

"We'll need a place to stay…"

"Whoa! Look, we're just talking about sex," the first teenager said.

Diana shook her head. "No, we're not. We're talking about people. You look at us like we're pieces of meat, as if we were put here on this planet just to sexually satisfy you. But we breathe, we love, we cry and we feel. We are not objects. We deserve to be treated with dignity. _All people do_. When you sleep with a woman, you become a part of her life. A little piece of you, at the very least, is imbedded into her soul. That's a huge responsibility."

"Worse yet, you could die," Donna added. "Have you ever heard of AIDS?"

"We have condoms," the second boy offered lamely.

"We have condoms," Donna mocked in a squeaking voice. "You might think its all fun and games and maybe for a time it is, but eventually you pay a price.."

The two boys started laughing. "You're lesbians, right?"

Donna's anger got the best of her and she squeezed too hard on the armrest of her seat. It shattered like porcelain under her Amazon strength. The boys stopped laughing.

"Of course," Diana said with a shrug, "if you don't shut up, I might tell my sister to give you a little pinch."

"Hallo, mein Name ist Steven Hinkle (_Hello, my name is Steven Hinkle_)," the man said, extending his hand to both women. Both Diana and Donna found themselves checking the man out despite the fact it was rude. He was tall and muscular, which was apparent by the cut of his suit. Broad shoulders and large biceps were contrasted by deep set blue eyes and a disarming smile.

Both women spoke German, but Diana, being the mission leader, spoke for the both of them. "Danke. Ich bin Diana und dies ist meine Schwester, Donna, besser bekannt als Wonder Woman und Troja (_Thank you. I'm Diana and this is my sister, Donna, better known as Wonder Woman and Troia_)."

He switched to English and Donna noted the Gotham accent. "Your grasp of German is flawless, Princess," he said. All three sat down at the small table in the hotel restaurant. "I was not aware that the two of you were related. I can see the resemblance," he said, giving them both a careful look over.

They were dressed like tourists but he bet somewhere under the clothes were their costumes. They had to be skintight suits in order to prevent any sort of lines showing. "You're not German?" Donna asked. She leaned slightly forward, pushing her breasts tighter to form more abundant cleavage. Diana almost rose to the challenge and then wondered what the problem was.

Then she guessed. Sibling rivalry. Like two children fighting over a favorite doll, they both knew that they were at least physically attracted to Steven and they were competing on some level for his attention.

"I was born in the United States, but I'm German by birth. My parents both came from West Germany and the family returned here after the unification of the country." A waiter came up and Steven asked if he could order. Both women agreed. "Mineralwasser fuer die Dame zu meiner linken, eine Pepsi Light für die Andere und einen Eistee fuer mich selbst (_Mineral water for the lady on my left, a Diet Pepsi for the other and an iced tea for myself_)," he ordered.

"Sehr wohl, mein Herr (_Very good, sir_)," the waiter said before leaving.

"Did I guess correctly?" he asked.

"Very good; how did you know?" Diana asked.

"I wish I could say that I am a man who understands the needs of beautiful women," he said with a slight grin, "but the truth is that I took a peak at your airline bill before coming here."

Donna chuckled. "Quite the detective, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Because I lived in America, my superiors believe I understand super-heroes. I'm nobody special."

"On the contrary," Diana countered, "your credentials showed you to be a special agent with the Abteilung fuer Metahumane Aktivitaeten (_Department of Metahuman Activities_)."

He nodded. "We have five members in the entire department and I'm the only special agent. There are very few of your kind here in Europe…ah! Our drinks have arrived!" The waiter served them and then left after Steven gave him a generous tip. "I look forward to working with both of you."

"Will we be able to see the body?" Donna asked. The scant information that she and Diana received had described a man who had been beat to death. There had also been mention of some severe laser burns as well. Very few metahumans could do anything like that if it was a natural power.

"It is being held at the Israeli embassy in Berlin; I will take you there tomorrow. The body is scheduled to be shipped back to Tel Aviv for burial before Saturday." He swirled his tea. "My supervisor is very upset about this, as are several other key governmental officials. You can't imagine the political time bomb this could turn into."

"I thought Israel was not blaming the German government." Diana said as she sipped her water. She leaned a little closer as well but remembered she had decided to wear a blouse that buttoned up to the neck. Donna seemed to be smirking.

"They aren't, but there are several governments around the world that would pounce upon this opportunity to elevate their own political position. Relations between my country and the government of the United States, for example, have been strained of late." He sighed and took a small drink. His brow showed his true concern. "I remember politics in the states…"

"I have found that politics are the same no matter where you are," Diana said. "Be you German, American, Amazon…it does not matter."

"I just find it hard to believe that anyone could bring up something that happened decades ago and use it as ammunition for a political assault," Donna remarked. Steven gave her a wide smile and she could not help but respond in kind.

"Many of my countrymen believe the same thing. I am a student of history," Steven said, turning his attention to Diana, "and I have found that over the ages, all great cultures have done things that historians record as wrong. Would you not agree, Princess?"

"My people witnessed the horror of the Spartans, yet we do not blame the current government of Greece," Diana told them.

"Six million Jews died here during World War Two," Donna pointed out.

"Ah, but Stalin killed 22 million of his people! What about Mussolini? Franco? What about the slaughter of Native Americans during the expansion of the United States? It seems to me that we all have skeletons in the closet," Steven told them. He finished his tea. "I've often thought about it, why what happened under the Nazis still resonates with such…horror."

"And your conclusion?" Diana asked him, intrigued.

"Guilt. It comes down to guilt. Not just the guilt of the Germans, but of everyone else. The concentration camps were not hidden. British and American intelligence were aware of what was going on, but history only records the anti-Semetic attitude of Europe during that time." He stood up. "I must be boring the two of you with my thoughts."

"Not at all," Donna said as she picked up her pocketbook. "I have a friend named Roy who I think you would like. He brought up the same point about the Native Americans."

He arched an eyebrow. "Your boyfriend sounds very interesting."

She returned the look. "Oh, he's not my boyfriend…"

"Not this week at least," Diana chimed in as she also stood. "We must be keeping you from your wife, though."

He laughed. "Divorced for two years. She was an American soldier. She wanted to go home and I was already there. I figure it is her loss."

Both women agreed but neither said anything, each trying to size up the other's interest in Steven. Donna was the more adventurous, but she did not want to stand in the way of what might be the beginning of something beautiful for her sister. She also didn't want to come off looking like a slut. "I've got to make a phone call," she said finally.

"Then perhaps I could interest Ambassador Diana in dinner?" he asked with a small bow.

Diana wasn't sure how to respond but then she noticed that Donna's eyes were urging her to go ahead. "Ich wuerde mich sehr geehrt fuehlen wenn der gutaussehende Regierungsagent mich zum Abendessen geleiten wuerde (_I would be most honored if the handsome government agent escorted me to dinner_)," she said.

"I'll see if I can find him," he laughed.

"Sprichst Du Deutsch, Hund (_Do you speak German, dog_)?" Baron Blitzkrieg asked, his rage-filled face hidden behind the golden mask of his armor. He leaned in a little closer to the frightened and beaten old man. The look in his eyes told the Baron that he did understand what he was saying, but part of the interrogation was getting him to admit to it, to get used to answering questions.

"Ja, ich spreche Deutsch (_Yes, I speak German_)," the man replied. The Baron nodded and stepped back.

"Was ist Deine Verbindung zum Atoman Projekt (_What is your connection to the Atoman Project_)?"

"Mein Vater war Teil der KGB-Gruppe die die Unterlangen nach dem Fall Berlins beschlagnahmt hat (_My father was part of the KGB group that confiscated the records after the fall of Berlin_)," the man told him in a hurried tone. "Er hat einen der Aufpasser verhoert bevor er ihn nach Sibirien geschickt hat (_He debriefed one of the guards before sending him to Siberia_)."

The Baron nodded and sat down on a heavy desk. The old man could not know it, but they were inside one of Hitler's secret bunkers in what was once the Soviet side of Berlin. It had never been discovered much to the Baron's surprise and it was now his base of operations in Germany. "Und ist es, was der Juedische Wissenschaftler von Dir wollte, als Du Dich kuerzlich mit ihm getroffen hast? Ja, Herr Diplomat, ich habe Dich seit mehreren Woche unter Beobachtung (_And what was it that the Jewish scientist wanted from you that you recently met with in secret? Yes, Herr Diplomat, I have been keeping tabs on you for several weeks now_)." The Baron did not bother to mention that Ra's Al Ghul's contacts had put him on the trail of this minor member of the Russian embassy.

"Er wollte etwas ueber Dr. Simon Teufel erfahren… (_He wanted to know about Dr. Simon Teufel…_)"

The Baron betrayed nothing as his mind dragged up the picture of the scientist, head of the Atoman Project. "Und was hast Du ihm gesagt (_And what did you tell him_)?"

"Ich habe ihn mit freigegebenen Kopien der KGB-Berichte ueber ihn versorgt. Er war tot bevor die Sowjetischen Einheiten ankamen. Wir wissen nicht, wer ihn getoetet hat (_I provided him with declassified copies of the reports the KGB drew up on him. He was dead when the Soviet forces arrived. We don't know who killed him_)." The man started to breathe a little heavier and the Baron wondered if that last blow had broken a rib. Perhaps the man's lung was punctured. It would only hasten the inevitable if it was true.

"Und was hat der Jude dazu gesagt (_And what did the Jew say about it_)?"

The man coughed. He seemed not to notice the blood that came with it and the Baron did not tell him about it. "Er hat ueber Teufel und ein Geheimprojekt geredet, das das Ende der Juden bedeutet haette. Als ich erwaehnte, dass Teufel einen Assistenten, Dr. Melch, hatte, schienen seine Augen aufzuleuchten (_He kept going on and on about Teufel and a secret project that would have meant the end of the Jewish people. When I mentioned that Teufel had an assistant, Dr. Melch, his eyes seemed to light up_)."

The Baron stood back up. "Wieso (_Why is that_)?"

Swallowing hard, the man spoke slowly. "Ihm war nicht bewusst gewesen, dass Melch jemals fuer Teufel gearbeitet hat, nur meine Regierung wusste davon (_He was not aware that Melch had ever worked with Teufel; it was only known to my government_)." The Baron nodded and asked of there was any information regarding Melch. "Ja, Melch saß eine lange Gefaengnisstrafe ab und wurde dann vor zwei Jahren entlassen (_Yes, Melch served a lengthy prison sentence and was then released two years ago_)."

"Er lebt (_He lives_)?"

"Nein, er starb kurz nach seiner Entlassung an Krebs, aber sein Besitz existiert noch (_No, he died of cancer shortly after his release, but his estate still remains_)!"

The Baron slowly moved out of the light, his voice now somewhat disembodied in the fading eyesight. "Ist dies von Bedeutung oder nicht (_This is significant is it not_)?"

"Es ist! Der KGB vermutet das Melch einen Teil seiner Projekte auf seinem Besitzt verborgen hatte, aber der befand sich in West-Deutschland (_It is! The KGB thought that Melch had hidden some of his projects on his property, but it existed in Western Germany_)! Ahhhhhh!"

There was a snapping sound and then the man slouched in the chair, dead at the hands of his captor. The man in the golden armor with the swastika adornments looked over at a map of Germany and flipped on the light as he moved over to it. This was new information and it was a matter of personal embarrassment that he had not known about Melch.

He remembered that scientist well.

He had been the Baron's uncle.


	6. Chapter 5

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 5

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

The hum of the laboratory was deceptive as it hid the horrors of the war being waged through the western part of Europe. The Allies had invaded and Germany was falling, it was only a matter of time. To the men standing in the laboratory, that truth was not accepted as absolute.

The Baron understood that the lab was filled with fools and the foolish and that by stepping in he secretly feared that their madness would penetrate his armor. He did not want to live in a dream world where the Reich would somehow be able to continue on. He loved his country and did not want to see it destroyed any more than it had been. The Soviets were racing in from the East and the Americans and British were making good time from the other direction.

The Baron knew that both armies would meet in Berlin and that the day was soon approaching. He again looked through the small window in the door leading into the lab proper and saw his uncle gesturing to his cousin, who stood at rigid attention. The Japanese officer next to the Baron made some comment about the cold weather.

The small Asian man could not see the look of contempt on the Baron's face as he turned to regard the "ally". Yes, there was a pact signed between Japan and Germany, but the Baron could not stomach what he saw as an olive-skinned monkey prancing around his beloved Fatherland.

The only reason this officer was here was because it had been his government that had supplied the strange green rocks that were so integral to the experiment. According to the Gestapo, the rocks were part of a strange alien craft that had crashed in Japan in the late 1920's. Investigation by the Japanese determined that the rocks were radioactive, but that the radiation was not harmful. In fact, plants that were exposed to the rocks seemed to become healthier.

The Baron did not understand all of it, but he knew that when German scientists had been given samples for possible use in a new atomic weapon. "If this experiment proves fruitful, it will mean much for both of our empires," the Japanese officer said in English. The Emperor of the Sun had not seen fit to send someone who could speak German.

"Indeed," the Baron commented, now having more incentive to go into the lab. He had hoped to convince his cousin to throw his lot in with him and the small group of German officers that the Baron knew. They saw the end coming and were making plans to preserve the Reich for a future date. "And if it is a failure, I wonder what my government will say about it?"

The other man shrugged. The Baron knew that the Japanese officer had as much contempt for him and the German people as the Germans had for him. "We were led to believe that your scientists were near the creation of an atomic weapon, that you were farther along than the Americans."

The Baron did not reply because it was true. At one time, early in the war, Germany was so very close to developing the weapons needed to bring the Allies to their knees. The Baron himself was an example of that technology. However, the Allies tenacity and perseverance had cost Germany greatly. Perhaps if Hitler had not opened up a second front with the Soviets there would have been enough funds to continue the valuable research.

Now they were reduced to working off the scraps of the Japanese industry, a country that was not in much better shape. They were hoping that the German scientists inside this lab would be able to develop something that could halt the American advance through the Pacific. "You will excuse me," the Baron said. It was a command more than a simple statement of manners.

He entered the lab and passed by the two Gestapo guards. Dr. Melch turned to the Baron. "Willkommen Neffe, Heinrich sagte mir Du seist hier (_Welcome nephew, Heinrich told me you were here_)." He walked over and extended his hand, which the Baron took. "Heil Hitler," Melch said.

The Baron did not bother to respond and he turned to regard the guards. They did not seem to notice the slight. "Ich nehme an, alles ist in Ordnung (_I trust all is well_)?" the Baron said as he turned back.

Heinrich was beaming as he started to remove his shirt. "Vetter! Ich bin erfreut, dass Du dich entschieden hast zu bleiben (_Cousin! I am so pleased you decided to stay_)!" The Baron did not want to say anything to ruin his cousin's mood so he returned his attention to his uncle. The man looked very much like the Baron's mother with the same eyes and smile. However, this was not a man who ran what was left of the family. It was the Baron's father who had been noble, marrying a young girl from a good Austrian family, but not a rich one.

"Es braucht einen einzigartigen Mann, der seinen Sohn fuer das Reich opfert (_It takes a unique man to sacrifice his son for the Reich_)," the Baron said dryly. He had not let his uncle know of his views, but they certainly could not have been oblivious to him.

"Einige von uns glauben noch immer an das Reich (_Some of us still believe in the Reich_)," was the response. The scientist knew better than to push his luck. Relation or not, the Baron was superior to him in every way. "Aber wir fuehren sinnlose Debatten! Wir haben Glueck einen unserer Super-Soldaten hier bei uns zu haben, nicht wahr, Dr. Teufel (_But, we debate pointless issues! We are fortunate to have one of our super-soldiers here with us, is that not true Dr. Teufel_)?"

The other scientist, who was busy checking the temperature of a glowing green liquid did not bother to turn away from his work but instead nodded his head absentmindedly. The Baron wanted to throttle the arrogant scientist for any other person save for Hitler or Himmler would have feared not acknowledging Baron Blitzkrieg. He hated the man so much that it was only the fact that Hitler had personally forbade killing him that stayed the Baron's hand.

The Baron's uncle could sense the German hero's frustration and was inwardly pleased. His elder sister's son had always been such an aristocratic ass! "Mein Sohn, bist Du bereit, Deine Pflicht fuer das Vaterland zu tun (_My son, are you ready to perform your duty for the Fatherland_)?"

Heinrich nodded and removed his boots and pants. "Fuer Hitler bin ich mit Verstand, Koerper und Seele bereit! Deutschland wird ueberlegen! Du und ich, Vetter, wir werden den Krieg and die Kuesten von Britanien und Amerika bringen.! Du wirst es schon sehen (_For Hitler, I volunteer my mind, body and soul! Germany will prevail! You and I, cousin; we will take the war to the shores of Britain and America! You will see_)!" It was hard not to be caught up in the youthful man's enthusiasm, but the Baron had seen far too many years of war and strife. He had seen the bodies of young German men and boys littering battlefields that should never have been. Not only was Heinrich his cousin but he was also a legacy to a generation that was being systematically destroyed as the blind followed the foolish.

Dr. Teufel, a dark-haired man with thick glasses and very non-Aryan features stepped over with a syringe full of the green fluid. "Herr Melch, Sie verstehen, das sobald sie mit dieser Fluessigkeit gespritzt wurden, die Wirkung fast sofort einsetzt (_Herr Melch, you understand that once you are injected with this fluid, the reaction will be almost immediate_)?"

"Selbstverstaendlich (_Of course_)," Heinrich said, his voice unwavering. The Baron knew that this was the moment of truth where his hopes that this program would produce the weapon Germany needed would become fact or fiction. The Japanese believed that they were creating a _kamikaze_, a soldier who would be a carrier of a radioactive plague.

Japanese experiments, recently under the direction of the mysterious Dragon King, had ended up with the conclusion that the green rocks were reactive with sunlight. In fact, it was believed that the rocks might have been some sort of super-fertilized soil somehow changed into a more solid form. The plants that were exposed to the rocks grew to great size, but were inedible. They were hard, unable to be pierced even with steel and absolutely useless.

When the Dragon King learned of the human experiments associated with German super-heroes, he offered their green rocks in exchange for access to any super weapon created from them. When Dr. Teufel had come up with the Atoman Project, Himmler had ordered a disinformation campaign to be waged on the unsuspecting Japanese. They were made to believe that young Heinrich was going to be given a dose of the strange green rock radiation and a dose of uranium. Then he would be sent to the United States where his new ultra-hard body would prevent him from being harmed as he spread harmful radiation.

The truth was that Dr. Teufel had discovered a way to isolate certain aspects of the green rocks with the use of electric current. He had theorized that the green rocks were part of an advanced experiment, perhaps aliens were thinking of converting the Earth into a giant farm. When Himmler had asked about any danger of the aliens coming for their materials, Teufel had responded that it had been over twenty years: nobody was coming for anything.

It was hoped that, if successful, Heinrich would be transformed into a German man of steel, a human Panzer tank. If not, then the Baron would have to stand by and watch his cousin, whom he regarded with some measure of fondness, die a horrible death from exposure and radiation poisoning. If that were to happen, then the Baron would cut Heinrich down with his eye beams.

Dr. Teufel stepped over to Heinrich and raised the syringe, ejecting a small amount of fluid. Then he waited as Dr. Melch tied off a rubber cord around the arm of his son, making the vein stick out. It wasn't actually necessary since the muscles bulged on Heinrich even when he was at rest. There was still a smile on his face as Teufel jabbed the needle in and injected the fluid.

Heinrich lurched in the chair, knocking his father and the other scientist aside and the Baron thought that maybe he should restrain his cousin. "Gott steh mir bei! Mir ist kalt, Vetter…so kalt! Es ist als ob Eis durch meine Adern fließt (_God help me! I feel cold, cousin…so cold! It is like ice running though me_)!"

"Sei tapfer, Sohn (_Be brave my son_)!" Dr. Melch called out as he stood up.

Heinrich's body was soon glowing and his coloration became as green as the fluid that had been put into him. "Es tut nicht weh, aber ich friere so (_It does not hurt, but I am so cold_)!"

The Baron stepped up to Heinrich and extended his hand. The younger man took it and squeezed. All heard the bones break with the grip, but the Baron did not cry out. He used his improved mental abilities to cut off the pain. There would always be time to heal.

Heinrich started to say something but instead started to laugh. "Die Kaelte ist fort, aber ich habe eine laecherlich gruene Faerbung bekommen! Ich bin ein menschliches Gemuese (_The cold is gone, but I am this ridiculous shade of green! I am human vegetable_)!"

"Ich bin sicher, dieser Effekt ist nur voruebergehend (_The effect is temporary I am sure_)," Teufel said, rubbing his hands together. The Baron, still holding his cousin's hand, could see that the scientist was quite please with himself. This was the pinnacle of Teufel's career; all that the scientist had worked for over the years was on display in the glowing young officer.

In response, the glow started to dissipate, obeying the commands of Heinrich. He released his grip on the Baron's hand and apologized. "Ich bitte um Verzeihung, Vetter, ich fuerchte, ich kenne meine eigene Kraft nicht (_I beg your forgiveness, cousin, I am afraid I do not know my own strength_)."

The Baron backed up and waited as Heinrich walked around. Now he looked absolutely normal. His father stepped forward with a folded uniform. He unveiled it before his son. It was a mesh suit, chain mail painted in orange and yellow with a long yellow cape attached to the accompanying cowl. Unlike the Baron's armor, there were no markings of the swastika or anything else that would indicate the wearer was from Germany. Instead, there was a circle and lightning bolt emblem. "Mein Sohn, Deine Uniform, die Ruestung des Atoman (_My son, your uniform, the armor of the Atoman_)!"

"Wird er leben (_Will he live_)?" the Baron asked of his uncle. They were watching as the body of Heinrich, clad in his costume, was laid into the lead coffin.

"Ja, aber wir muessen seinem Koerper die Moeglichkeit geben, sich an seine Kraefte zu gewoehnen. Er ist trotz allem nur menschlich. Erinnere Dich wie lange es dauerte, bis Du dich an deine eigenen Faehigkeiten gewoehnt hattest, Neffe (_Yes, but we need to allow his body to adapt to his powers. He is, after all, only human. Remember how long it took you to adapt to your own abilities, nephew_)." Melch did not look happy and the Baron could almost sympathize. The coffin was loaded into the back of special military vehicle that was to leave immediately for Berlin.

Heinrich had suffered a seizure twelve hours after the injection and was now being put inside this special coffin, designed by Dr. Teufel in case of an event such as this, to recuperate. The coffin would be plugged into machinery that would cool Heinrich's body and preserve him as he slowly adapted to the radiation. The Japanese officer had left convinced that the project was a complete failure. Himmler would be pleased.

"Wie lange wird es dauern (_How long will he need_)?" the Baron asked as the doors were closed. Dr. Teufel was hopping into a private car and its driver honked, indicating that Dr. Melch should hurry.

"Deine Sorge fuer meinen Sohn ist beeindruckend, Baron; sei beruhigt das ich alles noetige tun werde, um ihn zu beschuetzen (_Your devotion to my son is admirable, Baron; rest assured I will do whatever is necessary to protect him_)." The Baron asked where they were going to exactly. "Der Füherer hat sich selbst in seinen Bunker eingeschlossen, aber hat verlangt, dass wir ihm seine beste Waffe zeigen. Wenn wir Glueck haben, wird Heinrich erwachen, noch bevor die Russen die Stadt betreten (_The Fuehrer has locked himself in his bunker, but demands that we let him look upon his best weapon. Hopefully, Heinrich will be able to be awakened before the Russians enter the city_)."

They said nothing else, instead Baron Blitzkrieg, his hand in a cast, watched as all of them left the secret bunker. In the distance, he could hear the sounds of battle. The Allies were drawing close and with them came defeat. The Baron had come here to try and rescue the one person whom he considered an equal, a peer. Instead, he had watched as his cousin's coffin was loaded into a truck.

His first instinct was to run, but he could not bring himself to do it. Ra's Al Ghul had actually suggested that he remain and pose as a common infantryman. He would surrender to the enemy and watch firsthand as his country was stripped of all dignity. Then he would be able to remember and that would add fuel to the fire of revenge that was in him.

And never would he forget about his cousin, a brave man who tried to follow a dead dream. One day, the Baron would ensure that Heinrich served a man worthy of such loyalty.


	7. Chapter 6

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 6

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2003 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2003 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

"I thought we might go over the personal possessions of the deceased before we went to actually look at the body," Steven said as they started their dinner. Surprisingly, the agent had not wanted to take Diana out for typical German cuisine but had instead opted for a small Italian restaurant. They had both ordered and were sipping wine.

Diana had changed into something a bit more revealing, but not too much. She was still trying to get a feel for Steven and had to admit she wasn't exactly sure why she was even worried about it. She and Donna would conduct her investigation of the incident, perhaps even apprehend the person responsible and then return to America.

But why did she have to do that? She was a United Nations ambassador with the ability to travel throughout the world at any time! "Do you enjoy your work?" she asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

He examined his napkin and shrugged. "I love my country and I love serving the people. I just wish there were more German super-heroes, or even European ones!"

"So, you don't have very much to do I take it?"

He sipped at his water before replying and Diana noted that he seemed to weigh every answer to any question. She liked someone who did that; it was refreshing after spending her time with the alpha-males of the Justice League. None of her masculine teammates were shy about speaking off the hip! "I do a lot of research, actually. Why are there more heroes and villains in the United States than in Europe?"

Diana tapped the tabletop with a long red fingernail. "I'm afraid I'm not well-versed in the diversity of metahumans. I always assumed that it was equally distributed but that those in America tended to me more flashy."

"I wouldn't call Batman 'flashy'," he chided. He had a disarming smile and Diana knew that she was attracted to this man because he was good-looking, but not in a god-like sort of way like Kal-El. Steven had Batman's physique, but there was no darkness; he didn't act like a coiled spring or a cocked pistol. He was intelligent, able to discuss a variety of subjects, but not professing to be an expert. In simple terms, he was a breath of fresh air.

She couldn't help but wonder which one, between her and Donna, that he preferred, at least from a physical standpoint. "You would be surprised what Batman gets called behind his back. English is not my original tongue but I have to admit I've learned several new swear words that don't have an exact Greek translation."

"I can't imagine what it must be like," Steven said offhandedly.

"You are patronizing me," Diana warned.

"Yes, I am," he confessed. "I apologize." He coughed and then returned to the previous subject. "After the war, several German scientists were either taken to the West or to the Soviet Union. My theory is that work performed by those scientists during the post-war years led to the rise of metahumans today."

"Theory?" Diana asked, intrigued. "Are you writing a book?"

"Personal interest, actually." He stopped speaking while their food was brought to them. All of it was wonderful and Diana wondered what Steven would say if she ate like she normally did. As an Amazon, she had an incredibly high metabolism and could essentially eat anything and as much as she wanted.

The servers left after pouring the wine and Steven toasted their hopeful success. "I don't mean to say that every America metahuman is the result of German science, but there is a lot of evidence that the Nazis were very close to developing a whole spectrum of super-human soldiers."

"Is that what the Seraph was looking into?" Diana asked as she started into her salad. A dossier that Steven had provided her on the way over had indicated that the Seraph was conducting research into a scientist that worked for the Reich during World War 2. "Do you think that was what got him killed?"

"I don't know, but it is intriguing isn't it? The Seraph had contacted our office to find out of we had any information to add to his own research. It turns out he had more than we did and he was very happy to share." He salted his pasta as he spoke and stopped to sniff the rising steam. "This is the best; better than anything you can find in Italy."

"I don't know about that," Diana remarked. The food was good and it reminded her of home, not that they ate a lot of pasta in Thymerscia. It just put thoughts in her head of the land she had left behind to pursue her mission of peace. "But the atmosphere is certainly pleasant."

"As is the company," he said, raising his wine glass to her. She accepted the toast with a modesty he had never experienced in such a beautiful woman and then changed the subject to things that did not deal with death.

Donna looked at the three glasses of beer in front of her, each one something different. She wasn't much of a drinker and getting drunk was very difficult for her to do, but she did enjoy sampling the local fare. Several patrons of the hotel bar were staring at her and many men were shaking their heads as Donna downed mug after mug.

A man stepped up to her and smiled. "I could write a story about this, you know?"

She didn't bother to look at him. "Take a picture, it lasts longer." She regretted the brush off immediately. She was feeling just a bit left out and it was her own fault. Donna knew she had gotten caught up in the flirtatious rivalry and bowing out as she had for dinner had backfired. She had expected Diana to demand she attend supper with them.

Donna turned to regard the man who had spoken to her and was pleasantly surprised. He was tall with wavy blond hair and wearing cologne that stimulated the senses but didn't overpower. He had incredibly deep blue eyes, even more spectacular than Steven's. The man was dressed in clothes that were not too fashionable, but were nonetheless in good condition and clean. He had the look of someone who desperately wanted to achieve great things, but was limited by his faults. "I'm sorry," she said, offering her hand. "I'm Donna."

"Yes, I know. Your arrival is the buzz of the paparazzi." He pointed to the throng of photographers just outside the bar. Hotel rules prevented them from entering, as did the two burly security men. "You are the one called Troia, correct?"

Donna smiled and tried to place the man's accent. It sounded (and she hated to think it) like generic European; like something an American actor would use in a movie. "Yes, and you are?"

"Henry Miller," he said with a large grin, as if the entire world should know who he was. When Donna did not immediately react, his smile started to fade. "I'm a freelance journalist."

"Oh," she said. So, he wanted a story.

"I heard you were here with your sister…"

"And you wanted an interview?" Donna asked, turning her attention back to her beers. Everyone wanted to meet Diana. "I'll mention it to my sister when I see her again."

There was hurt in Henry's voice. "I'm sorry, but I think you misunderstand. I'm writing about the death of the Seraph," he said in hushed tones. Donna turned back and looked at him. It didn't surprise her that some reporters already knew about the hero's death, but the way Henry was not trying to let the world know immediately, get the "scoop" as it was called, was unusual. "As I said, I'm freelance. Someone else will eventually let the story out," he said, drawing closer to her to prevent anyone from overhearing. "I want to get the story of the investigation. I specialize in deep investigative reporting."

"Then why haven't I read any of your stuff?" Donna said half-jokingly.

"I write mostly for private publications, nothing national. This, however, could be my big break." His eyes were pleading with her and they were very pretty eyes after all. Unlike Diana, however, Donna wasn't usually taken in by just a pretty face.

Well, that wasn't exactly true either when she considered her dating history. She sighed. "I'll have to clear it with out governmental liaison," she said, still giving him the once-over. Up close, she started to realize that he was very attractive and she couldn't help but be reminded of none other than Bruce Wayne. There was an air of confidence with this reporter that you normally did not see.

When Henry had shown her the crowd at the entrance, she detected his disdain for them. Maybe he was one of those reporters that lived for the story, not the publicity. It was an attitude Donna had tried to use in her approach to photography.

For a brief moment, she wondered if she were speaking to the Batman in disguise. It would be like him to do just that, dress up like a reporter and enter a country that had strictly forbade him from crossing the border. Maybe it was Dick and a wild fantasy ripped through her mind at the speed of thought. Would Dick Grayson come all the way to Germany, disguise himself and possibly seduce her? It just told her that her feelings for her teammate went a lot deeper than she liked to admit.

"Would you like a beer?" she asked. "I'm buying. The German government is treating."

For a second, a look of disgust seemed to wash over him, as if drinking something as common as beer was beneath him. Then the look was gone and he shrugged. "To be honest, I am not much for beer, but I do enjoy cognac, " he answered.

"Bruce?" she whispered, but he didn't seem to notice as he turned to get a bar stool to sit next to her. Suddenly, Henry Miller was the envy of all of the men in the room as he sat down next to the former Wonder Girl.

"Weren't you once a Darkstar?" he asked.

"Long time ago," Donna replied as the bartender brought Henry his drink. "It's something all of us American heroes like to do, change costumes and names. Adds a little spice to our lives."

"Ah, yes, well I started out in the military myself," Henry said as he tasted the liquor. "From there I did quite a bit of traveling and exploring across Europe."

"By yourself?"

He nodded. "It is the best way to get the story, to experience what you are writing about on your own. If someone else is with you, your writing could be influenced by their perceptions."

"If we let you follow us around, what do you plan to write?" Donna asked him as she held up three fingers to the bartender.

Henry looked around. "The truth, of course, but I also want to make sure people understand the process involved." Donna wanted to believe him, but she had worked with enough reporters in her life that she was suspicious. He seemed to see it in her expression and gave a little chuckle. "And I hope to write a book about it one day."

"Ah," Donna responded. She had to admit, the investigation into the death of a super-hero would make very good reading and the fact that he had come up and personally requested to join in their investigation was definitely in his favor. "What can you offer us?"

"I know that the Seraph was here investigating the late Dr. Teufel," Henry said. Donna shrugged and said she had no idea who that was. Henry took another sip and pursed his lips. Suddenly, he reached inside his suit jacket and retrieved a business card. "Talk to your sister and the government investigator and then call me when what I have sounds interesting."

"So, I only have to be interested in your information to call?" she said, wiping the foam from her lips.

He laughed again; he seemed to be happy all of the time. Donna found that to be very attractive and made a mental note to mention it to the boys back at Titans Tower. "I must be going before I say something to ruin this fortunate meeting."

"You don't want to stay?" she asked, expecting him to make some sort of moronic attempt to get in her pants.

"Perhaps some other time?" he replied and she was suddenly put off. Did she say something wrong? Was he gay? There was no way; she was sure he had given her jeans the once over. Maybe she was getting old? "I have a previous appointment that I cannot miss, sources and all. You understand?"

She said she did and wondered if maybe she could catch a flight home. Donna felt as if she were in a perpetual funk. "Are you in the habit of blowing off women who drink like fish in a bar?"

He looked as if he would almost say yes, but he shook his head. "No, but I am not in the habit of treating women like they are whores either by lurking in bars, waiting to take advantage of them. Perhaps I am old-fashioned; perhaps you are used to playboy Americans, but I feel a woman should be treated with dignity." He put a few Euros on the bar. "When the time is right, I would be honored to show you how a German treats a lady."

He disappeared into the crowd and Donna had to remind herself to close her mouth.

It was nearly two in the morning when Diana entered the suite and Donna was sitting up, watching the news. "Have fun, dear?" she asked in a mocking tone.

Diana leaned against the doorway into the common area of the suite and reached down to take off her shoes. "You should have come," Diana said. She didn't really mean it because she had a wonderful time, discussing things that had no Earth-shattering ramifications.

"Oh, I decided to go get drunk," was the response. "Too bad they don't have anything strong enough to do it."

Diana reached into her top and unhooked her bra, pulling it out through her sleeve. "This is pure torture; a man had to create these things."

"I don't see why you wear it; it isn't like Amazons need them," Donna said, offering up a bag of popcorn. "Hell, I've had a kid and not a single stretch mark or droop. It's like were aren't human."

"We're not, exactly," Diana said, grabbing some popcorn. "I did learn a little more about the Seraph, though."

Donna nodded. "Anything having to do with a Dr. Teufel?"

Diana stopped eating. "Where did you hear that name?" she asked.

Her sister explained her meeting with Henry and Diana in turn told Donna about the dossier. "So, who the hell was this doctor?" Donna finally asked at the end of their stories.

"Apparently, he was a scientist working on some sort of super-soldier program for the Nazis towards the end of the war," Diana commented.

"Maybe our mother knows something about him?" Hippolyta, the queen of Thymerscia and Diana's mother (and technically Donna's as well), had traveled back in time to the era of World War 2 only a few years prior. While there, she operated under the name of Wonder Woman and joined the All-Star Squadron. "I mean, she did have a few battles with Baron Blitzkrieg."

"I'll put a call into her in the morning," Diana said as she stood up. "I need a shower and some sleep."

"Do we really need sleep?" Donna inquired sarcastically. It had become her favorite pastime whenever they were alone to ask as many questions regarding Amazon physiology as she could.

"Sleep allows the mind to drain away the sludge, dear sister. You sound like you could use a few hours yourself."

Donna agreed and turned off the television, preferring to stretch out on the couch. Within minutes, she was fast asleep, dreaming of men in dark costumes with German accents.


	8. Chapter 7

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 7

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

When Wonder Woman and Troia arrived at the Israeli embassy the next morning, Steve was already there, sitting on the hood of his car sipping a coffee. He walked over to them and took extra time in saying good morning to Wonder Woman, but he did not neglect Troia either. He gave their costumes the once over. "You two aren't much on modesty, are you?"

Neither woman replied, but instead they quickly glanced at each other. Troia had never really taken a good look at her sister's costume, but now realized that it was very, very revealing. Her own costume, a skintight outfit of black mess, hugged her feminine attributes like a second skin. "We are comfortable with our bodies," Wonder Woman replied.

"Indeed," Steven said with a smile hidden behind his coffee cup. He decided it best to change the subject, as he did not wish to appear rude. "We have been given permission to go through the personal possessions of the Seraph before they are shipped back to Israel. We will not be able to keep anything unless we can prove that it is evidence of the murder." Both women nodded that they understood.

Troia seemed ready to say something and then she turned her head, looking around the surrounding streets. "Are you expecting someone?" Steven asked.

"A reporter," Troia replied, unsure of how the law enforcement officer would respond. Reporters and police normally did not get along, at least in the United States, and she was a little fearful that she had just committed a faux pas of sorts. She had not cleared Henry with either her sister or Steven, and if they objected, she knew she would have to be the one to inform him.

"Really? From what paper?" Steven inquired, an amused look upon his face.

"He's freelance," Troia said, biting her bottom lip. Maybe she had drunk too many beers the night before. Maybe Henry had looked cute because she had really thick beer goggles on. Maybe the fact that she was currently unattached and didn't really like that situation, she had made a real stupid error in her judgment. "He's German, too."

"Klingt, als ob ich einen ziemlichen Eindruck hinterlassen habe (_It sounds as if I made quite an impression_)," Henry said as he stepped out from behind a van. He was putting a cell phone back in his pocket.

Steven turned to face the reporter and gave him the same once over that he had given the super-heroes. In his mind he decided that Henry looked plain enough and probably wasn't a threat. What he found amusing was that Troia obviously felt embarrassed about inviting the reporter without actually informing anyone.

What she didn't know was that the department that Steven belonged to loved publicity and that his problem had been in selecting who would follow them along as they investigated the mystery. Now the choice was made for him, but he also had a duty to make sure that Henry was not a hack of some sort. "Seid gegrüßt, ich bin Spezial-Agent Hinkle (_Greetings, I'm Special Agent Hinkle_)," he said extending his hand.

Henry took the offered hand and gave it a firm squeeze. "Ich bin Henry Miller (_I'm Henry Miller_)," he said. Steven considered the man's speech and asked him if he was a German native. "Meine Familie ist sehr alt; unser Stammbaum geht viele Generationen zurück (_My family is a very old one; our bloodline goes back many generations_)."

Steven did not say anything else about it, but he detected the hint of the aristocratic nasal sound of a nobleman, or at least someone who pretended to be. He took another look at Henry's clothes and realized that while his suit appeared to be expensive, it was actually a knock-off, more akin to something that Steven himself would purchase.

The cell phone as well, while stylish looking, was one of the prepaid varieties. That told Steven that Henry might be someone who most likely either used to have money, or most likely wanted to have some. He had the rugged good looks of a football player, or soccer as it was called in the States, but there seemed to be some lacking. "Troia sagt, dass Sie angeboten haben unsere Untersuchungen für die Oeffentlichkeit zu dokumentieren, um sicherzustellen, dass wir nichts vertuschen. (_Troia says that you have volunteered to document our investigation for the public, to ensure that we keep everything on the level_)."

"In der Tat. Ich denke dass es faszinierend seind wird und ich moechte sicher sein, das die Wahrheit ans Licht kommt. (_Indeed. I think it will be fascinating and I want to make sure that the truth gets out there_)," Henry replied, pulling out a pack of American cigarettes. "So viele andere haben die Angewohnheit ihre eigenen Ambitionen in das, was sie sehen mit einzubeziehen. Ich habe nicht solche Bedürfnisse (_So many others, they have a tendency to wrap their own ambitions into what they see. I have no such desires_)."

He offered the pack to the rest of them, but all declined. Steven explained that if he were to accompany them on the investigation that he would be required to submit all stories, reports and bylines to him for approval. "Manche Aspekte der Untersuchungen muessen von den Augen der Oeffentlichkeit ferngehalten werden (_Some aspects of the investigation need to be kept out of the public eye_)."

Henry nodded that he understood and inhaled deeply. "Dann lassen Sie mich damit beginnen Sie zu fragen, was sie bisher haben? (_Then let me begin by asking if you have anything so far_)?"

"Uh, guys?" Troia asked. "My German isn't the best and you guys are going back and forth too fast for me to follow."

Wonder Woman chuckled. "Your reporter friend wants to know if there has been any leads as of yet."

Steven complimented her on the command of his language, again, and turned back to the reporter, who was pulling out a notepad. It was just another sign of the man's poverty. All of the reporters Steven had ever encountered had digital recorders.

The government agent quickly relayed what they had discovered so far. "The Seraph, in his now-public identity, was performing research into the work of a scientist named Teufel who had performed human experiments during the days of National Socialism. Teufel was unique because he was a Jewish scientist working for Hitler."

"No way!" Troia blurted out. Even Wonder Woman appeared shocked at the revelation. Steven turned to them and it dawned on him that he had neglected to mention that particular detail.

"Though he was born a Jew, Teufel considered himself a scientist first. Our records indicate that he never referred to his origins but instead devoted himself to his work and let it speak for him." He went on to tell them that it was the reason why the Seraph had been so interested in the scientist. "Being a scientist himself, the Seraph wanted to know what it was that was so important that a man would betray his own people."

"And," Henry started in English, "what have you discovered?"

"While Teufel worked on many projects, his very last one was something called the Atoman Project." Steven shook his head. "We have no idea what it was, though. Our opinion is that something related to the Atoman Project got him killed." Steven stepped forward. "That is classified for now."

Henry nodded and jotted down his notes in between puffs on his cigarette. Wonder Woman leaned in close to Troia. "I did not realize you liked older, smokier men."

"Everybody has flaws," she responded. "Anyway, he's honest and that counts a lot in today's world."

"On that point, little sister, we agree," the Amazing Amazon said as she stood back up. As she did so, she noted that several Israeli army guards were moving to the front gate. "I believe our escort is here," she announced.

The guards allowed them access into the embassy compound and there Henry was frisked. It was obvious to Troia that he was not happy about it, but he seemed to tolerate it with good humor. Satisfied that Henry posed no threat, the guards escorted them a few meters to an awaiting officer.

"Oberst Ari Brahms (_Colonel Ari Brahms_)," the officer said as he saluted. Wonder Woman had almost forgot that in her official capacity, she was a United Nations ambassador and subsequently was treated as if she were a senior military officer at times. "Willkommen in Israel (_Welcome to Israel_)."

It was common knowledge that wherever embassies were established, the land that they set upon was considered part of the host country. For all intents and purposes, they had entered Israel. Troia found it fascinating and she smiled at Henry who had a comical look on his face. It was almost as if he thought the entire ceremony was ridiculous.

Then she considered that if one looked at it from a practical point of view, it probably was. They were in the heart of Berlin, not Tel Aviv. "Danke, Oberst (_Thank you, Colonel_)," Wonder Woman replied, extending her hand. The officer hesitated for a moment and then accepted it. "Erlauben Sie mir meine Schwester, Troia, Agent Steven Hinkle und Her. Henry Miller vorzustellen. Herr Miller wird die Untersuchungen für die Medien dokumentieren (_Allow me to introduce my sister, Troia, Agent Steven Hinkle and Mr. Henry Miller. Mr. Miller will be documenting our investigation for the media_)."

The colonel shook his head. "Wir erlauben keinen auslaendischen Journalisten den Zutritt zur Botschaft ohne ihren Hintergrund gruendlich zu durchleuchten. Es tut mir leid, aber Herr Miller wird hier draußen bleiben muessen (_We do not permit foreign journalists within the embassy without a background check. I am sorry, but Mr. Miller will have to remain out here_)." Wonder Woman tried to vouch for Henry on behalf of her sister, but the colonel was adamant. "Wie ich bereits gesagt habe, Herr Miller, es ist nichts persoenliches (_As I said, Mr. Miller, this is nothing personal_)."

Henry took a deep breath and a flash of anger crossed his eyes. Troia could feel his outrage and she wondered what would have happened of they had been in the United States. Most reporters would start screaming "cover-up", but to his credit, Henry seemed to eventually take the news in good humor. "I have no problem with that, I suppose," he said to Troia. Then he turned his attention to the colonel. "Ich werde hier bleiben, wenn das in Ordnung ist (_I will stay here, if that is all right_)?"

The colonel thanked him for his understanding and then nodding to Wonder Woman, he asked them to follow him. Henry grabbed Donna's arm, his large hand covering her forearm. "You will tell me what you see?" he asked, hope in his voice. She smiled and nodded her head. He seemed so much younger with the anxiousness in his eyes and voice.

Wonder Woman continued to question the colonel. "Ich dachte die offizielle Sprache von Israel waere Hebraeisch, nicht Deutsch (_I thought the national language of Israel was Hebrew, not German_)," she stated.

The colonel did not turn around, but instead reached out for the door to the embassy. He paused. "Es gibt nur sehr wenige Menschen in Deutschland, die Hebraeisch sprechen und ich fuerchte, mein Englisch ist kaum nutzbar. Einer der Gruende warum ich hier stationiert wurde sind meine Deutsch-Kenntnisse (_There are very few in Germany that speak Hebrew and I am afraid my English is barely passable. One of the reasons I was posted here was because of my command of the German language_)."

"Wie kommt das (_How is that_)?" Steven asked as he passed the colonel and entered the embassy's foyer.

Die Familie meiner mutter stammt urspruenglich aus Deutschland, viele davon entkammen bevor der Krieg began, aber ihr aelterer Bruder blieb zurueck, ueberzeugt, dass er mithelfen konnte, die Welle des Nationalsozialismus umzuwerfen (_My mother's family originally came from Germany; most escaped before the war started, but her older brother remained behind, convinced that he could help turn the tide of National Socialism_)." The colonel shook his head. "Zwei SA-Maenner pruegelten ihn auf der Straße zu tode (_Two SA men beat him to death in the street_)."

"Es ist gut, dass das Verhaeltnis zwischen Deutschland und Isreal so große Vortschritte gemacht hat, (_It is fortunate that progress has been made between the people of Germany and the people of Israel_)," Wonder Woman pointed out.

Steven and the colonel nodded, but she got the distinct impression they were only placating her. Donna, who had given up following the conversation, instead marveled at the large paintings within the foyer and adjoining lobby. She looked at the signatures on each one and then gazed at the artworks. Some were scenes of farms on bright green plots of grass, while others showed darkened cityscapes. There was one haunting image of a child holding a teddy bear. The painting was done in different shades of gray; the child's face a mixture of despair and horror. Her eyes were two large black orbs. "Dies sind alles Werke von Ueberlebenden des Holocaust, alle in den fruehen 50ern gemalt (_These are all works of Holocaust survivors, all painted in the early 1950's_)," the colonel remarked. "Einige zeigen, wie Deutschland vor dem Krieg angesehen wurde. Was viele der National-Sozialisten vergessen haben war, das sogar die Juden Deutsche waren; auch sie liebten dieses Land bis man es ihnen weggenommen hat (_Some show the way Germany was perceived before the war. What many of the National Socialists forgot was that even the Jews were German; they too loved this country until it was taken a way from them_)."

Troia said nothing but continued to look at the painting of the child, wondering what the artist had seen to inspire such a horrific work. Five minutes later, Wonder Woman pulled on her arm. "What is it?"

"I guess it's hard for me to come to terms that things like this could still happen," Troia replied.

"That is why we are here, to see whatever it is we can do to find out who is responsible and stop them from doing anything that could cause…that," the Amazing Amazon said, inclining her head towards the painting.

In the basement garage of the embassy, next to a van with blackened windows, the body of the Seraph was laid out on stretcher. Next to it stood two commandos armed with Uzi's. They eyed the heroes and the special agent as they did everyone else, with suspicion. One of the ambassador's aides directed them to the body. "We really need to hurry. The body is to be removed to Israel for burial before the Sabbath."

They took a few minutes to look at the man, taking note of the bruising. Their records had indicated that the Seraph had claimed to possess the strength of the biblical Samson. He had also been equipped with several weapons that were missing. Wonder Woman asked about them, wondering if that their disappearance could have been motive for the murder.

The aide shook his balding head. By his accent, they could tell he was originally from Britain. "They have been secured and taken to Israel, where they belong," he told them.

"So the only real motive we have is his research into Dr. Teufel," Steven surmised. Troia and Wonder Woman agreed and after a final glance at the body, they moved over to the other side of the garage where several items had been laid out. Behind them, the body was loaded into the van. "Does anyone have any idea what was so important about Teufel's work?"

Troia picked up a notebook and stared reading from it. Surprisingly it was in English and not Hebrew. "It appears that the Seraph was trying to determine exactly what Teufel was working on during the war and what the end result of those experiments were." She skimmed a couple of more pages of notes. "Ah, here's something of interest. It appears that the SS were very interested in furthering some research that the Japanese had already started."

"I was not aware that the Japanese and Germans shared scientific research during the war," Wonder Woman commented.

"It's news to me as well. Certainly there was some exchanging of information regarding weapons technology, but that was about as far as it went according to my sources," Steven said as he examined a satchel with various pens, pencils and other office supplies. When he looked up and saw the two women looking at him he smiled. "I did do some research before the two of you arrived; I am an investigator. But, like our representatives told the United Nations Security Council, we do not have a lot of experience in dealing with super-villains and we are assuming that one is behind the murder."

"And the fact that he was Jewish and looking into Nazi secrets makes it especially touchy, doesn't it?" Troia added. "I can understand all of that, but I just don't understand what he could have come across that would have made someone want to murder him. The Nazis, for the most part, are dead."

"The original ones, yes, but there are still hundreds, if not thousands, of people that cling to the idea of National Socialism," Steven said as he put down the satchel and looked at the Seraph's wristwatch. "Maybe he came across a neo-Nazi group…"

"I find it hard to believe that such an organization would have access to weapons that could take down a Global Guardian," Wonder Woman told them as she accepted the notebook from Troia. She read through it and stopped at a paragraph that was written in a seemingly different style. After a moment, the Amazon realized that it had been written down in a hurry. All of the other notes indicated that time had been taken into their research, which probably meant that the Seraph had been sitting down in a calm environment when he had written them.

These notes were done in a different situation and she soon realized that they were from an interview. "The day before he was killed he spoke with a Russian, a man who claimed his father had been part of the KGB teams that had scoured Berlin after its fall."

Steven nodded. "Yes, the Russians were very thorough in grabbing up everything they could. Stalin was not just after secrets, he also wanted revenge on Hitler for the damage the Germans had done to his country." He took the notebook from Wonder Woman and shook his head. "This is bad."

"What?" Troia and Wonder Woman asked together.

"The man he interviewed was found, or I should say, pieces of him were found, last night. He was a Russian diplomat. I did not realize the cases were connected." He pulled out his cell phone and dialed in a number. Moving away, he began to speak in excited German.

"Well, Henry will be pleased," Wonder Woman whispered to her sister. "This has all of the makings of a first class mystery."

"You don't approve?"

"My approval is not necessary, but I get the idea he is hiding something." She bit her bottom lip. "I also get that idea about Steven as well." There was a rumor that surrounded Wonder Woman that nobody could tell a lie in her presence and she not detect it. "I suppose that it is to be expected."

"Well, I think Steve there has the hots for you," Troia said.

"I get that a lot," was the answer. "Most men see me as an object of lust. Their loins and groins doing much of their thinking for them, but sometimes you have to overlook that."

"Right…"

Wonder Woman chuckled. "You do, little sister. Men are inferior beings, afraid of reaching inside and speaking to their inner selves. Instead, they want to take the role of the hunter and lose themselves in the heat of battle where action and not thoughts count. They are always stabbing."

"God, not the symbolic penis lecture; I got that in high school when we read _Lord of the Flies_." She cast a glance over at their companion. "He ain't too bad, you know that? And since he likes older women…"

"What?"

Troia shrugged. "I'm just saying that obviously your better years are behind you. Superman got away from you, ended up marrying Lois; you two would have been a perfect match."

Wonder Woman's jaw dropped and in a hushed tone she told her sister to be quiet. Troia grinned evilly. "Better grab some while you still can, Diana."

"Sex is not a recreation sport or something you get off of the shelf…"

"Biological clock is ticking…"

"I'm immortal!"

"You'll be called the world's longest living prude…"

Wonder Woman punched Troia in the arm as Steven returned. Troia's face reflected that there had been no real harm. "Am I interrupting?"

"We were discussing the ramifications of not having an active sex life," Troia said and Wonder Woman started to turn red.

"I see," Steven replied, his face turning a slight shade of crimson as well. He decided to change to subject while Troia did her best to look completely innocent. "The information that they have so far is being faxed to my office. I think the Princess and I will look into it and I was wondering if perhaps you and Henry could look into something else."

Troia nodded. "Sure. What is it?"

"We still need more information on Dr. Teufel and what he was working on. Most of the records were seized by the Russians, but perhaps Henry has some contacts that can point you into some Germans that might know something."

"When in doubt, use the press," Wonder Woman said, providing her approval. "Excellent. That will leave us free to try and figure out any super-villains that could have pulled this off. Two murders, it is a tragedy."

Steven shook his head. "No, the tragedy will be if we do not find out what the connection between the two murders is. If this person has killed twice, then I am sure that they will kill again."

When Troia explained the plan to Henry, his face lit up. "Of course, of course! Why, this will be a thrill to actually be involved in the investigation. It would add entire new perspective to my writing!"

He looked genuinely happy and she could not help but smile as he did. There was something about the way he looked at her, a combination of fascination, hunger and maybe even a little fear that she found fascinating. Most men looked at her body, as they did with Diana's, and made their judgments there and then. Instead, he seemed to be focused on her and what made her tick, how she looked at things.

She laughed inwardly, reminded of how excited she used to get when she would go on a play date as a child with one of her best friends. As they walked to his car, she explained everything that they had discovered. Henry slid into the driver's seat and pulled out his cigarettes. "You don't mind?"

She did, but it was his car. "No, go ahead," she said. As he lit up, she could not help but notice how…European he looked as he did so. Though he dressed rather plainly and had the manners of a choirboy, he was actually quite handsome in his own way. She had been surrounded her entire life by young men with ripped abs and shoulders that could hold the weight of the world, but with Henry, she just couldn't tell what his physical condition exactly was. His clothes were a size or so too big and his socks did not exactly match.

He was sort of normal and he wasn't pawing at her or gawking. He simply treated her like she was a regular woman and for the first time in her life, she was really enjoying it.


	9. Chapter 8

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 8

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

"There is not much to tell about my life," Henry said as he shifted gears. They were heading north towards what was supposed to be the last place of residence of Dr. Teufel's assistant, a Dr. Melch. One of Henry's contacts on one of the major European newspapers, he had explained, had discovered that Melch had died not so long ago and that his estate had been donated to the German government. It wasn't much, but several university students had been pulled to go through the mountains of archival material and scientific data the man had collected during the war.

Melch's existence was not widespread and because of his family's ties to old political powers, he never became much of a news story. "I come from a family that had money once and does not anymore." He shrugged and took his hand off of the gear shift to reach for his pack of cigarettes. As he did so, his hand brushed against Troia's knee, which was most likely a little bit too close for two people who were just acquaintances. If she minded, she did not indicate it. "We are by no means poor, but all members are expected to support themselves."

"So you do it by your writing?" she asked, interested in this apparent self-made man.

"Among other things; I also perform the occasional research. My specialty is tracking down lost loves," he told her with a wry grin. "I guess it is the romantic in me."

Troia laughed and turned to look out the window. "Your country is beautiful," she commented almost off-handedly.

"Yes, but there is much more to Germany than the borders imposed by Allies," he said. "At one time, most of this part of Europe was under Germanic rule. All of these peoples are related, separated only by political thought." He lit the cigarette and cracked his window.

"I didn't realize you were such a nationalist," she said, turning to face him again. His profile was strong and she just could not put the face with the clothes or the car. This was someone with the attitude of subtle confidence that people like Dick Grayson gave off. She liked strong men and liked the fact that you could find them in the strangest places.

Her life had been filled with such men, from Dick, to Roy (Arsenal) Harper and on to Kyle (Green Lantern) Rayner. When she could not find a strong man, she had doubled her efforts to be tougher, always searching for a balance in her life. She was a woman, but there had always been a more aggressive side to her as well. Only after she learned the truth of her Amazon heritage had she come to realize why she had always seemed split on the inside.

"I am normally not comfortable speaking about my political views, especially with Americans," he confessed. "Germans have made mistakes in the past, though you have to be a German to understand why."

"You are starting to sound like Steven," she commented.

Henry inhaled deeply. "As I said, you have to be German to understand. Whenever a German speaks of national pride, the first thing anyone says is 'Nazi'."

Troia nodded and found herself toying with the gear shift with her index finger. "I suppose you are right; the term is harsh."

They came to a turn and Henry reached over to downshift, catching Troia's hand by surprise. She blushed as she slowly pulled her hand away and he chuckled as he completed the action, made the turn and gunned the engine. "I hope you are not so playful in your sister's jet."

She could not help but be amused by the comment and was again amazed at how he had not pressed the situation further. At least he was being flirtatious, but in a way that did not make her feel dirty or like an object. "It is not that the term is harsh; it is a term of scorn. America and the Allies won the war and after that, efforts were made to humiliate the German people."

"I don't know about that…"

"Oh, how about Colonel Klink or Sergeant Schultz? Whole generations of Americans were raised believing we are a race of mentally deficient killers. How many times have you seen American children do a mock 'Heil Hitler' whenever they hear a Germanic accent?" He took another drag on his smoke and breathed out heavily. "It is something that as an American, you can never fathom, the humiliation."

Troia could somewhat sympathize, but she also knew that the Nazi's had been responsible for the murder of millions of innocent people. Somehow she had the feeling that bringing up that point would only anger her host and she did not want to do that. She was also surprised by the anger in Henry's voice and she wondered if perhaps this was an attitude that permeated the whole of European society. The war had been over for well over 60 years, yet the Americans still maintained bases in Europe "just in case".

While such actions might have been prudent during the Cold War, the world was now a different place. Was this attitude of resentment towards America because the United States simply refused to let go of their past glory over its enemies?

He reached over and put his hand over hers in a gentle fashion. "I do not mean to upset you; as I said, I do not like to speak my viewpoints around Americans. Your country has been very prosperous in its short history and many of you have pride in it that I envy."

She did not make him remove his hand, finding it comforting in a strange way. She wondered what thoughts were going through his mind; did he enjoy slowly seducing a younger woman?

Or did he realize the younger woman enjoyed being seduced?

"May I be so bold as to ask you a personal question?" he asked, his tone indicating he was changing the subject.

"I suppose so," she replied, wondering what he could be wanting.

"I read a news account that indicated that you had gotten married."

Troia turned away, biting her bottom lip as painful memories resurfaced. "I was…once. We had a child."

"Had?"

Her voice was choked with angst and she still remained turned away. Slowly she revealed to Henry the tale of her courtship with Terry Long and their subsequent marriage. She explained how Terry, a simple man, could not cope with heroic lifestyle that his wife constantly found herself drawn towards. "We divorced and the court granted custody of our son to him. My life was too unstable." Then she related how, at the lowest point in her life, she started a relationship with Kyle Rayner and how he had been the catalyst to her recovery. The divorce had devastated her. And, when she thought that everything was going to be okay, her ex-husband and child were killed in an automobile accident.

"Since then," she confessed, "it has been too difficult to really become involved with anyone. When I try, it just falls apart."

Henry was silent for several minutes, all the while Troia watched the trees and homes pass by. Finally, he squeezed her hand. "It was not my intention to bring up bad memories."

"I know," she said, wiping a tear away from her eye with her free hand. "Everyone expects me to be so strong, to be something other than human. Nothing is supposed to hurt me." She turned back to him and offered a weak smile. "I'm a woman. I have super strength, but I also have tender feelings and a heart that can be broken. Sometimes having to do the right thing costs you so much," she said.

He nodded and downshifted as they approached a turn-off. "I agree. For my part, I consider you a woman before a super-hero. It would be nice if the papers reported on the human aspect of super-humans; not just the super."

Troia sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, slowly pulling her hand away. As comforting as his touch was, it was time for her to switch to her business mode. She did promise to buy him dinner for being such a good listener. He laughed and warned her that he could be bear at the dinner table. "I hope you have brought your checkbook!" he told her.

The Melch Estate was not so much an estate as it was a small building set in the middle of what once must have been an expansive piece of property. The home was made from stone and had an ancient feeling to it Troia noted as they pulled up. There were several other cars parked in the front, some of them appearing to be military vehicles of some sort.

Henry explained what he had found out. "When Dr. Melch died, his estate became the property of the government as he had no legal heirs. He had a son, but he disappeared during the war." They stepped out into the fading afternoon sun; the trip had taken longer than expected and Troia was happy to get out and stretch her legs. Had she flown on her own, she would have been here hours ago, but the car trip, so normal it was exhilarating, had been worth the toll. For just a little while, she had felt like an average woman.

Henry got out and had a trademark cigarette in his mouth and Troia was beginning to figure out that it was starting to grow on her. Normally, she lectured people about the hazards of smoking as much as he did, but she didn't feel the need to with Henry. She doubted it would do much good anyway. "It looks like we have company," he said as a uniformed man approached. Behind him marched three young, steely-eyed soldiers armed with automatic weapons.

The leader held up a hand. "Halt!" he called. Neither Troia nor Henry moved from his car, waiting patiently as the group approached them. Two of the soldiers moved past them and started looking into the vehicle. The leader, a young captain, looked Troia over, his eyes betraying his surprise at meeting a beautiful young woman in a skintight spandex costume. It took him a second to regain his composure. "Sie sind die Amerikanische Superheldin Wonder Girl_You are the American super-hero Wonder Girl)_?"

Troia swallowed, preparing to do her best at speaking German. If pressed, she spoke many languages, but she lacked the fluency possessed by her sister. Wonder Woman needed to speak as many languages as possible; she was an ambassador. Troia was an adventurer and that by definition allowed her to slack off a little.

Like a knight on a white horse, Henry stepped in. "Sieht sie aus wie ein Mädchen, Kapitän? Sie wird in ihrem Land Troia genannt (_Does she look like a girl, Captain? She is called Troia in her country_)."

The captain nodded and begged for an apology. He waited a few moments until one of the soldiers checking the car gave him a thumbs-up. "Und wer sind Sie (_And who are you, sir_)?"

Henry pulled out his identification and quickly explained to the soldier who they were and what they represented. "Frau Troia ist hier im Auftrag der Deutschen Regierung und den Vereinten Nationen. Ein Israelischer Superheld ist getoetet worden (_Ms. Troia is here under the authority of the German government and the United Nations. An Israeli super-hero has been murdered_) …"

"Ja, ich weis über den Tod von Seraph bereits Bescheid (_Yes, I already know about the death of the Seraph_)," the officer said. "er hatte einen hier einen Interview-Termin mit dem Chef-Ermittler (_he had an appointment to come here to conduct an interview with the lead researcher_)."

Troia leaned over and whispered into Herny's ear. He nodded, spoke into hers and then returned his attention to the soldiers. "Wieso sind Soldaten hier (_Why are there soldiers here_)?"

The captain shrugged and signaled for the other men to relax their weapons. "Dr. Melch war bekannt dafür, dass er an verschiedenen Projekten fuer das Reich gearbeitet hat. Es ist moeglich, dass er einiges in seinem Haus versteckt hat, was beschlagnahmt werden muss (_Dr. Melch was known to have worked on several secret projects for the Reich; it is possible he had some things hidden on his estate that will need to be confiscated_)."

Henry asked if it were possible for them to interview the lead researcher and the captain pulled out a cell phone and dialed in a number. There was a brief discussion with whoever was on the other end and Troia passed the time by taking a harder look at the estate grounds.

Now that she had a little more height from standing she could see the foundations of several other buildings that had once stood proudly on the property. She could also make out the worn down paths that had probably been driveways leading to each structure. At one time, this must have been a bustling, happy place. Instead it was a testament to the ravages of time.

She wondered what Dr. Melch had thought after finally being released from prison, coming home to find his home in complete ruin. Then she thought that perhaps it was fitting, given Melch's political leanings. Her thoughts were interrupted by Henry's hand on her shoulder. It was surprisingly strong. "We have been given permission to speak with the lead researcher, Dr. Milton Styles, an Englishman."

Troia raised her eyebrows. "Thank God; I feel like it is a burden to have you speaking for me. My German isn't that great."

"Your German is fine," he told her as they started to follow the soldiers. Henry immediately took a place behind her and she wondered for a moment if he were trying to get a good look at her backside. A casual glance told her that it had been one of the soldiers that had been ogling her posterior and Henry had stepped in to block his view.

When was the last time one of the guys on the Titans had even attempted to show her such courtesy?

Milton Styles met them in what had once been a garden, but had since become overrun with weeds and vines. There were two more soldiers present, but they were not on guard. The military was simply here to confiscate anything dangerous and to protect against any sort of theft.

The researcher was a tall, muscular man, not the typical scientist type. In fact, Troia thought she recognized him and when they shook hands, he explained. "You and I met several years ago when you were still Wonder Girl," he told her. Henry had pulled out his digital recorder and switched it on. "It was during the Special Olympics; I was a guest athlete."

Troia snapped her fingers. "Of course, you were one of the gymnasts! You and Robin had a sort of contest!"

"Damn talented young man," Styles admitted. He asked them to join him at a small table. Once they were all seated, he asked them what he could do for them. Troia related the story of the death of the Seraph and how it appeared that his research into the mysterious Dr. Teufel had gotten him killed.

The researcher nodded. "The Seraph contacted me after speaking with a Russian official that had some information regarding the disposition of Teufel's work after the war. Most of it was confiscated by the Soviets, but not all of it. I have uncovered several documents that seem to point to the transfer of materials to the Gestapo near the war's end."

"Dr. Styles," Henry said into his recorder, "exactly what sort of materials?"

Styles shrugged and pointed out into a field. "Six decades ago, there was a barn over there. Underneath that barn there had been a vast underground series of catacombs. We think that many of the items were stored there but…"

"But what, Doctor?" Troia asked.

"Allied bombing runs sealed off the entrance and collapsed several of the tunnels. There is no way to verify without tearing the up the grounds," the scientist admitted.

Henry asked why they did not do so. "We have some initial findings that there may be something radioactive down there and the government cannot decide if it safer to leave it where it is or to dig it up." He shook his head in frustration. "We know that the Nazis were working on atomic weapons and the government is afraid of the political fallout if they announce that there are nuclear weapons buried here and there throughout Germany."

"People would start suing the government in droves for all of their perceived illnesses," Henry stated.

"Not just that; environmental groups would go on rampages; the United States would begin poking their nose into it," he said and then he looked at Troia. Blushing, he apologized. "Sorry, forgot one of you was a yank."

She smiled. "It's okay; I understand. The German government wants to keep this under wraps. Unfortunately, with the death of the Seraph, that may not be possible."

"I don't understand," Styles said. "Surely you are not suggesting that anything found here would have resulted in something untoward occurring to the Seraph?"

"On the contrary, Doctor," Troia said, tapping a well-manicured fingernail on the table. "If he had found out about something radioactive, perhaps something like a weapon, I could see where perhaps some terrorists would want to keep that information from getting out."

Styles smacked the table. "I must alert the head of security immediately! I never put it together, but that is plausible!" He got up and told them he would return shortly to give them a proper tour.

Henry laid his cigarettes on the table and lit one. "Intriguing," was his only comment.

"It is just one possibility and the only one I can think of," she said. "I'll need to contact my sister and Steven to let them know about this."

"Of course," Henry agreed. A thin smile came over his lips and she asked him what he was thinking of. He replied that it was nothing and she said it looked dirty. "No, no, nothing like that," he told her. There was an odd look on her face at the revelation. "I was just thinking that you or your sister could probably re-open the entrance."

"Oh, I see," she said, turning her head away. "You only want me for my bulging biceps." Her voice with was filled with fake disappointment.

She felt his strong hand again as it wrapped around her upper arm. "It is impressive," he commented.

"Is that what you always say when you grab a woman?"

"It depends," he laughed. "It depends on where I grab her at."


	10. Chapter 9

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 9

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

Steven and Wonder Woman had arrived at his office in a large governmental building early in the morning and had been forced to wait several hours until another agent arrived with a folder. Both he and Steven spoke at great length in hushed tones and Wonder Woman busied herself with standing at a large picture window and looking out at the city below.

The urban sprawls of the Patriarch's World still amazed her. Her home was something of a throwback to ancient Greece with marble buildings, all complete with columns and statues of powerful women. Here, as with every other city she had been in since she had chosen to become an ambassador of peace, there was a mixture of the old with the new.

Her mother had often spoken of the horror of World War 2 and the destruction that had been wreaked upon Europe, especially Berlin. To see a city filled with life and light, that gave her hope her mission would eventually succeed. She had come to teach mankind about peace and yet it seemed like every day human beings did everything in their power to eradicate themselves from the world.

Yet here was a city that had been pounded into dust and ash by Allied bombers seeking revenge for a thousand injustices. Buildings that had stood for hundreds of years had been brought down in seconds and turned into so much rubble. Here was a city that had been not only rebuilt, but now thrived. There were smiles on the faces of the people passing by. There was hope in the air, a feeling of anticipation of what was to come next.

There was not so much difference between the people of Germany and the people of the United States she decided. They all wanted the same thing, happiness. The greatest obstacle mankind had to overcome was the disease that plagued every culture since the beginning of time: following those whose personal ambitions made them seem larger than life. That was one reason why Wonder Woman so admired people like Superman; individuals who put society before themselves.

She turned from the window and looked over at Steven and the intent look on his face. She had sensed from the beginning that he was someone in the mold of her friend Kal-El. He had good looks and intelligence, that was apparent, but he was not smug about it. Batman, or at least his alter ego of Bruce Wayne, was an extremely handsome man; but Bruce Wayne knew he was and he used it as a weapon. He had an arrogance that was infuriating. Steven did not have that.

But more than the outward physical characteristics, Wonder Woman admired his inner qualities. He was truly horrified by the death of the Seraph and he genuinely wanted to solve the crime and bring the responsible people to justice. And he was not doing it to put the proverbial feather in his cap. Instead, he was doing it because the people of Germany demanded it.

He had been born in another place, but he loved where he lived. It was obvious in the way he presented himself, the way he would point out the smallest detail about his country to Wonder Woman. Here was the modern German man, she told herself.

Then she shook her head, realizing that her description put up a border of sorts. The way to true peace was by not categorizing people by country, race or anything else of the like. Steven was an example of the modern man, plain and simple.

He saw her looking at her and supposed she wanted to be included in on the conversation. He excused himself from the other agent and moved over to give his attention to the tall Amazon beauty. "There is a problem," he told her in a hushed tone.

The office area they were in was filled with mostly clerical staff and Wonder Woman got the impression that space was shared with other government agencies. That probably meant that at times discretion was required. He reached out and gently grabbed her arm, pulling her away and towards a deeper part of his section.

They did not stop until they reached a sound-proofed interrogation room. As if he had telepathic powers as well, he explained to her why the abrupt change of venue. "In order to be more efficient we share space with the Berlin Police, but we are required by our mandate to maintain absolute secrecy in any investigation." He indicated a chair for her to sit and then took one opposite of her. "We are new; the government and the people for that matter, are still deciding if we are worth the time and money. There are calls within the government for a joint European Union metahuman investigation venture. They also want to recruit super-heroes to be part of it and remove normal civilians whom they feel are not equipped for the job."

Wonder Woman nodded. It was not unexpected. Though the Justice League had an agreement with the United Nations, and had for many years, the fact that it was a "Justice League of America" was always a source of contention among many nations. To poorer countries it was a sign of American Imperialism; to the richer countries it was like having a prettier garden or a faster racehorse. "And your feelings?"

He shrugged. "I'm not scared of super-villains, but it takes more than courage to do this job. I also am of the philosophy that when it comes down to it, it is the normal cop in the street who has to deal with them. The thought that super-heroes will be here forever or that they can protect us from every evil is self-destructive. We 'normal' people will, when or if the time comes, not be able to deal with a Joker or Cheetah because we will be expecting a hero to do it for us." He sighed and pushed back his chair. "The argument can be further expanded. If we have super-heroes, why do we even need police officers? Firemen? Paramedics? Apparently some people think it is the duty, the obligation, of people like you to do those jobs."

Wonder Woman shook her head. "That sort of attitude leads to resentment on the part of law enforcement and other emergency services. They start to believe, and rightly so, that their only task is to perform the functions we do not want to."

Steven slapped the table lightly to accentuate his point. "Exactly! Unfortunately, Princess, it is already happening. Many in law enforcement resent your very presence. That is why it is important to me to see regular police officers in every country working side-by-side with you heroes. That is why I requested that the Justice League be brought in."

"You requested me?" she asked. "I thought it was a joint decision by your government and the Isreali ambassador."

He laughed. "I did not request you specifically," he said, a slight blush coming over his face, "though I cannot say I am disappointed." She felt a little flush herself at the compliment. It was an honest effort to be a gentleman. "I knew from the moment I heard about the murder of the Seraph that it involved a metahuman. Most European villains are normal guys in long underwear trying to make a political statement. This time it was different. We've never had to investigate a murder in this department before."

"Well, I hope I can help," she said.

He nodded and handed her the file. "The dead man was a Russian diplomat. His father, oddly enough, was a former KGB official who had been here in 1945 to get as much Nazi material as he could. Stalin was obsessed with Hitler and wanted anything that had to do with him." He paused as Wonder Woman looked through the crime scene photos. They were particularly grisly, but she was a warrior born. She had seen death before. "He had some burns on him that appeared to have been made with lasers; the cause of death is still being investigated, though."

"What is his connection to the murder of the Seraph?"

"The diplomat's father was part of a unit that had investigated the experiments of Dr. Teufel. Teufel was killed by Soviet soldiers trying to escape Berlin, but they did manage to go through the papers he had on him. They pointed the Soviets towards Dr. Melch, but by that time Melch had been captured by the Allies." Wonder Woman asked how he had gotten so much information on the diplomat. "The Russians were very upfront about the whole matter so long as we allowed one of their investigators to join in. They want justice as well."

"And I suppose this is the problem you were speaking about?"

Steven did not get to answer as there was a knock at the door. She saw him wince and then she turned her attention to door. Outside it was a massive man of bulging muscles and curly auburn hair. He was pale with the thin lips of a Cossack and wearing a green costume with a large red star on it. His face was hidden behind a sort of half cowl with large, polarized red lenses over the eyes. She recognized him immediately.

Steven got up to open the door and let the large man in. "Princess Diana, allow me to introduce Red Star of Russia."

"We have met," the other hero said in a pleasant voice in heavily accented English.

"Leonid," Wonder Woman said, standing up and extending her hand. Red Star took it and gave it a firm grip. She gave him a proper greeting in Russian and he returned it with some details of his trip to Germany.

Minutes later they were all sitting around the table. "My government," Red Star began, "wants me included on every aspect of this mystery. It is the only way to avoid a political and media showdown," he warned.

Leonid Kovar had received his powers accidentally, but had purposely used them to better his country. He loved Russia, but was also a confirmed socialist. He had briefly operated in the United States as the original Starfire, but had found America and its freedoms unsettling. Too much freedom, in his opinion, led to decadence. "I know you do not want me to be here, or at the very least my presence is unsettling," he continued. 'I assure you that my only concern is to root out the culprit and establish a method by which they can eventually be transferred to Moscow for trial."

"But the Israeli's may want him first, or the Germans," Wonder Woman pointed out.

Red Star nodded. "Yes, but neither country has a death penalty at this time. Let them try him or her; we will execute them."

Steven shook his head. "That serves no cause of justice."

The big Russian shrugged his shoulders and gave them a disarming smile. "Da; but the people of Russia also believe in revenge. Justice is merely a byproduct." It was not a small statement as both Steven and Wonder Woman remembered the devastation that the approaching Soviet troops had caused as the moved from their homes to Berlin during the war. They had been like a pack of wolves pursuing a wounded deer, snapping and biting at anything and anyone that got in their way. In fact, Wonder Woman thought, she believed it was a Russian saying that "revenge was a dish best served cold".

It took about another hour to completely share all of the information they had so far with Red Star and he listened intently. Wonder Woman did not need to be telepathic to understand that Steven truly resented having the Russian and his attitude as part of the investigation. Yet, he tolerated it because it was his duty and deep down, he knew it was the right thing to do.

Regardless of his political leanings or his views on mercy and justice, Steven was fully aware that a Russian citizen of some importance had been murdered and the Russian people had a right to be outraged. They also had the right to try the individual under their laws.

When the briefing was over, Red Star leaned back in his chair and rubbed his smooth chin. "Have you heard any word from Donna yet?" he asked. He was friends with Wonder Woman's sister from his days with the Teen Titans.

"No, but they were investigating the former estate of Dr. Melch," Wonder Woman replied.

"Ah, yes," he said, nodding. "I have uncovered some more information regarding the two scientists. They were involved in a project, towards the end of the war, that was originally started by the Japanese." That brought a couple of raised eyebrows.

"I know that we were allied with the Japanese during the war," Steven said, "but it was not like the union of America and Britain. Most of my people held the Japanese in disdain."

"The feeling was mutual, I am sure," Red Star told him with a smile. The Soviets had also been mortal enemies of the Japanese going all the way back to the early 1900's. "We know, from discoveries made in the 1970's by the KGB that during the middle years of the war, the Dragon King…"

"The who?" Steven asked.

"The Dragon King was a powerful Japanese metahuman that was never captured after the war," Wonder Woman replied. "He worked with Hitler in creating the mystic shield that prevented Allied heroes from entering occupied lands in Europe and Asia."

Steven nodded and Red Star continued. "Yes, as I was saying, he was placed in charge of some experiments conducted on Chinese prisoners of war that included radiation treatments. The radiation came from a series of meteorites that had been found on the mainland of Japan during the 1920's."

"Ghastly," Steven said. Red Star gave him a queer look and Wonder Woman could tell he wanted to say something. However, the Soviets had just as bad a reputation for violations of human rights as the Nazis did. It was better to just keep quiet, which is what Red Star did. Instead he focused on the story. "The radioactive material was found to cause plants to grow to incredible size, but they were inedible. In fact, they grew a skin that was so strong that some Japanese military officers considered using it for armor plating. Then the idea of creating a super strong, super man occurred to them."

"They were successful?"

"Nyet. All of their test subjects died, but then during the war they heard about Dr. Teufel and his experiments along the same line. They offered their research and the material to him." He leaned in close. "It was called the Atoman Project."

"I've never heard of it," Steven admitted.

"Not surprising. It appears it was a failure, not that some in the German high command did not think that was unexpected." Red Star tapped a finger on the table. "We interviewed a captured Japanese officer after the war that indicated that Baron Blitzkrieg himself was against the entire project. But not because it would fail, but because it was too late. The Japanese figured that Blitzkrieg wanted to escape Europe with the technology in order to raise a Fourth Reich one day."

"Blitzkrieg," Steven whispered. He stood up suddenly. "Let me check our files on Blitzkrieg, see what I can dig up. Would the two of you mind staying here?" Neither hero minded, Wonder Woman stating she would try to teach her Russian friend about the idea of mercy. Red Star laughed and only asked if they could have some coffee.

"I will see to it," he said, before exiting the room in a hurry.

"They are close to finding out the truth," Baron Blitzkrieg said from behind his golden mask. He stared at the video monitor that held the image of Ra's Al Ghul. "I should act immediately. Kill them."

The immortal man shook his head. "No. That would bring in the likes of Superman and the Detective. "

"I would deal with them," the Baron swore.

Al Ghul laughed at the notion and shook his head. His tone was that of a father scolding a child. "One does not 'deal' with the Detective or his ilk; one must prepare months, perhaps years in advance. Even I have yet to taste the sweetness of ultimate victory over them and I have been at this for a very long time." His tone then changed to one of command. "No; you will let them continue their investigations. Allow them to keep asking their questions. It does no good. Even if they find what we are looking for, it will do them no good. I do not need you to be a weapon of destruction, my dear baron; on the contrary, you will be a thief. Let them unlock the safe, but it will be you who will have the treasure in the end."


	11. Chapter 10

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 10

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

Donna had expected that her presence would have caused some sort of stir within the archeological dig, but the truth was that the scientists and university students were too wrapped up in their research to pay attention to her. The guards, elite soldiers of the German armed forces, would not allow themselves the luxury of flirtations with her. Feeling a mixture of resentment and relief, she finally retired to a bedroom that had been graciously set aside for her.

Her sister had contacted her by cell phone an hour before, explaining what they had found out and also about Red Star joining them. Donna looked forward to seeing her old friend Leonid as well as reuniting with her sister. Except for one night, they really had not had much of a chance to bond. Instead Donna had been playing a game of sorts with Diana, trying to catch the eye of men who were obviously interested in the world famous Wonder Woman. It had been childish and she knew she should feel bad, but the emotions just wouldn't come.

She laughed to her self as she opened her suitcase and pulled out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt with the "R" logo from Robin's costume. It had been a gift from Dick Grayson, the original Robin, and Donna loved to sleep in it. It was faded from years of use, but was as comfortable as slipping into a nice hot tub of water. Which reminded her that she needed to bathe and shave her legs.

One of the things they did not teach you when you first became a super-hero was how to prepare yourself for wearing costumes that clung to your skin or showed it off. She still remembered tussling with some common street thugs once when one of them grabbed her leg and then pulled it away. His face had betrayed the horror he had felt when he realized how much stubble could penetrate her Lycra costume.

That was one of her infamous debates with the men on the Titans. Why was it that women loved a man's hairy chest and legs, but men absolutely demanded a woman shave nearly every hair off her body?

A knock at her door broke her out of her nostalgia and she quickly pulled the shirt on over her head, adjusted her sports bra and hurried over. She hoped it was Dr. Styles with some more information. The man seemed absolutely terrified of terrorists attacking the site, but she had wondered if he feared for his life or for the lost opportunity at pure research?

She opened the door and saw Henry standing there, holding a bottle of wine. "Guten Abend (_Good evening_)," he said with a wry smile. She noted the cologne he was wearing; it was one of her favorites. "I hope I have not missed anything important?" he asked.

Shortly after Dr. Styles had fled to warn security, Henry had begged off, saying he had an errand to run. That had been several hours before and Donna had been forced to fend for herself. "I don't know," she said impishly. "Did you miss me?"

He bowed his head, his voice indicating his sincerity. "In truth, fair lady, I did, but I had good reason for departing from your angelic presence. I have discovered more information regarding our dear Dr. Melch." Then he held up the bottle of wine. "And I also found something much more enjoyable than beer."

Donna smiled and shrugged. "I don't know; I am awfully fond of beer…"

"I assure you that once this coats your tongue, all of your fantasies about brewed hops and barely will disappear forever, resigned to be overshadowed by the sensation that can only come from expensive French wine." She then let him in and he walked in quickly and made for a small table. He took some time to examine the room. "I am sure that this was a fine guest chamber in its day," he commented as he produced a corkscrew from a pocket.

"I asked some of the other researchers and they told me that this estate was made up of many buildings, not so much one large one. Melch's family was large, but by no means did they get along." Donna was then surprised to see him produce two wine glasses from another pocket of his jacket.

"Is there anything else in there I should be worried about?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.

For the first time, a lustful glare came to Henry's eyes and Donna felt her heart skip a beat. When he was hungry, he looked like a predator and she suddenly felt like a deer in a spotlight. It had been years since she had felt that way in the presence of a man, years since she had gone ahead and let her defenses down enough to let such a presence overwhelm her. "I would say that anything you find will be to your liking," he finally said and the moment passed. In the air, however, lingered the electric feeling of lust unabated.

As he poured the wine, he told her of what he had discovered in his errand. "For some reason, the German high command ordered some of Melch's experiments moved here near the end of the war, by order of Himmler himself."

Donna accepted the wine and took a small sip. He had been correct; it was like nothing she had ever tasted before. She had to take another before she could tell him what her sister had told her. Through it all they slowly moved over to sit down on the bed, as it was the only furniture in the room. Most of the rest had either been stolen or confiscated by the researchers for their work in the basement.

Though not a mansion or a keep, the house was still alert by American standards and had several rooms that had been made into private quarters. The senior researchers got to live in small trailers at the outer edge of the perimeter of buildings. As such and with the work schedule of the researchers, Donna and Henry had been given the only two rooms on the second floor to give them privacy.

"Interesting," Henry said as he poured them each another glass. He then removed his jacket and Donna finally got a good look at him. He wore a short-sleeved shirt underneath and as she had suspected, he wore clothing that was much too large on him. His arms bulged with muscles, but it was as if he were self-conscious about them. Donna had seen the same reaction from several female heroes who wore bulky clothes to hide their chests. "You say that the Russians believe that all of this was the continuation of a Japanese experiment?"

Donna nodded and leaned back, suddenly feeling very relaxed. She knew it wasn't the wine; she couldn't get drunk. It was just the setting and the company; she felt so at ease. She brought one leg up seductively over the other and then realized that she hadn't had time to shave them. Her face blushing slightly, she put them back down. "My mother," she began without trying to explain the unusual circumstances of her true relationship to Diana. It was usually too much for people to accept that she was a magical clone. "My mother fought Baron Blitzkrieg after the war."

"And he was involved as well? Interesting?"

"That's an odd reaction," Donna said. "I thought most people of Germanic descent were appalled by the memories of the Nazis. I never heard anyone say 'interesting'."

Henry nodded and smiled. "Your country is very special in one way that I truly do admire; when you speak of freedom of speech, you mean it. In this country, the Nazis are criminal to write about, to talk about."

"Ah, your politics again," Donna chided him. "Quite the conservative, aren't you?"

"I simply don't think you can ignore the past," he answered flatly. "Ignore the past and the future suffers."

Donna accepted the reply without any further comment. He had warned her that he was not standard in his political thought, but then who was? Diana supported the rights of women in the Amazon fashion, but Donna, technically an Amazon, was pro-life, not pro-choice. Did that make her odd in her sister's eyes?

How would she know? She and Diana never discussed such things and now she understood Henry's position. He did not want to alienate friends or even strangers, but at the same time, he demanded the right to keep his own political viewpoint. Maybe he was right, after all; maybe it was time for the German people to simply accept the past and not ignore it.

Then she heard the voice of Roy Harper in her head, remembering a lecture he had given her, for the millionth time, about Native American rights and how the government of the United States had trampled all over them. Henry saw the look on her face and asked what she was thinking of.

How long had it been since a man asked her that? "Something an old friend told me once. I think it helps me understand your argument." Slowly she stood up. "I hope I'm not being rude, but you caught me just before I was going to shower. Plain and simple, I stink."

He nearly spurted his wine and she apologized for being so frank. He stood up, laughing. "No, it is quite all right and certainly my fault. I should have told you what time I would drop by."

"I'd like to talk some more," she said. "Maybe in an hour?"

"Of course," he said, again with a small bow and she led him to the door. He stopped the door with a hand that was just over her own. "One hour?" he asked her with pleading eyes.

"Maybe a little less," she replied, slowly pulling her hand away.

The water had been surprisingly hot and fresh and after two razors (it was apparent that Roy Harper was using hers to shave his face again! The little bastard was always using them and then putting them back), she had shaved all of the parts of her body that required attention. She wondered if she spent more time fixing her hair or shaving it off.

She backed up underneath the water and let it pour on her. There was little chance of her being burned and so she could just stand there and let it run over her body. Her Amazon physiology had been kind to her; even after having given birth, there were no stretch marks and no scars. In fact, there were no scars anywhere on her body thanks to the make-up of her skin. She would look young forever, no matter how old her heart became.

And her heart did feel old. How many more lives would she see cut short before her own ended? Would her life ever really end, could an Amazon truly grow old and die? If not, then her end would have to come by force, through tragedy; she would have to be a victim just like the Seraph. That did not seem very promising.

And what about the life she was to lead until that end came? She had already tried the marriage and family life and it hadn't worked. She had been an intergalactic cop when she had joined the Darkstars and that had not worked. Now she was playing amateur Batman and it did not seem to be working either. She did not feel any closer to the answer as to why the Seraph had to die than when she started.

How did Nightwing do it? How did he put together clues from here and there in order to get a logical progression of events? Now that she was working on a mystery without his aid, she was starting to gain a healthier respect for his abilities.

She reached up and put her hands in her hair and then felt the air change in the room. It was subtle, as if a door had been opened and she strained her hearing. Maybe someone accidentally opened the door, saw it was occupied and then walked out. There was also the reasoning that someone wanted her autograph and they had brought their very own pen!

If so, they were going to be very sorry, she thought.

Slowly the shower curtain moved away and she cracked open an eye. "Vergib mir, meine sanfte Taube, aber ich bin ueberwaeltigt von Deiner Schoenheit, von Deiner Erscheinung. Heute moechte ich wie die Engel sein und den Himmel spueren (_Forgive give, my gentle dove, but I am overwhelmed by your beauty, by your presence. Tonight, I want to be like the angels and feel Heaven_)," Henry said.

She understood enough to realize that he was not forcing himself on her; he was asking her if this was what she wanted as well. Deep inside of her, she felt the stirrings of passion making their way from the cold pit of her stomach. It spread out, warming places that had needed some heat for so very long.

She extended a hand to him, inviting him into her personal space. Now, unclothed, exposed to her without any barriers, she noted that he was an extremely powerfully built man. He was physically perfect and yet that was not what made her pull him close so that his skin rubbed against hers. This was someone who had treated her with worth and value, had not seen her as a plaything or a conquest. He was not like those boys on the plane.

Instead, Henry had won her over with his personality and his attention, much the same as a man named Terry had many years before.

They kissed, lightly at first, and then with more vigor, more fire. Their hands, so desperate to latch onto the other, roamed here and there, trying to find the perfect handhold. In time, he had found hers and she had found his and under the steaming water they turned and twisted, each trying to gain a position of advantage where they could demonstrate through touch how deeply they wanted the other.

Their foreplay seemed to last for hours and Donna found herself losing all track of time, remembering only wave after wave of pleasure that threatened to tear her apart from the inside out. She pleaded with him and he with her, both of them fighting to give the greatest amount of pleasure that they possible could. It was fencing with hearts.

When their lovemaking finally began, Donna felt years of anguish and frustration melt away as she pressed against the shower wall. Even with her enhanced strength, she could not break free of the bindings of lust that Henry had placed around her and with each beat of the rhythm she dug her nails deeper and deeper into his skin, or at least she thought she had. Over and over again she was taken to the top of a mountain of ecstasy, only to be led down a little ways for a rest. Anxious to reach the peak, to plant her flag at the top and scream out to the world she had reached her goal, she drove him on and on. But he was a patient and strong man and would not be led astray from his course of love. He guided her, showed her pleasure she had never known before.

She was gasping for air, the steam searing her lungs as she wrapped her legs around him, pulling his hair, her moans primitive. She cursed and she pleaded to be taken to the Promised Land and then it happened. Her eyes began to lose the ability to focus colors and breathing became optional as an explosion of pure, unadulterated joy ripped through her body, coming to head in a scream that shook the room they were in.

Four screams later, he finally moaned and stopped, his head dropping down to her bare chest, the water running down his back did nothing to cool the heat that was emanating from his broad shoulders. Slowly, almost painfully, they parted. He backed under the water and put his face up to it. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" she asked, panting.

He brought his head down and regarded her with eyes that still smoldered with lust. He wanted her again and she could tell he was more than able to rise to the challenge. "I am fine," he said with a grin.

"I meant your back…I have a tendency to hurt my lovers…"

He turned for her and then quickly moved to face her again. "I am fine; you possess great self-control."

"No I don't," she said, stepping forward and pushing him back against the wall. An hour later they stopped once again only to take a breather. Twice more during the night, the former home of Dr. Melch was consumed by the sounds of passion. Guards and researchers alike began to chuckle and make small bets as they listened, but nobody would dare to interrupt two lovers. It simply was not the European way.

Leonid offered Diana a banana. "It is good," he said with a smile.

Their driver simply shook his head and paid them little mind. He enjoyed looking at Diana's (she had insisted that he not call her Princess Diana), beautiful face in the rearview mirror. The big Russian, however, was another story. Certainly, without his mask on, he was a handsome enough chap, but he ate like a pig.

"You must work out a lot, Leonid," Diana commented with a grin. Despite his political leanings and a rather bullish attitude towards people he did not know, she had found the Russian super-hero to be friendly enough. He had spent several hours talking to her about his friend Pantha (a former Titan who it was obvious he had very deep feelings for) and their "child" Wildebeest.

He held up a bicep. There was no doubting the man had the form of Hercules. "Da! Serve as example to young children of Russia. Too many overweight children in America. French fries. Need to eat more fruit."

"I agree," She said, turning to look out the window. Steven had insisted that she and Leonid travel to the Melch estate ahead of him as he was checking on some information regarding Baron Blitzkrieg. He was hoping to cross-reference the intelligence files on the Nazi metahuman to see if they could come up with anything relating to Dr. Melch.

"This country is beautiful," Leonid said. It was a surprising revelation. "I can understand why he loves it so much."

"Who?" Diana asked.

"Your Steven's friend. It is obvious he loves this land more than anything. He looks to you but then his eyes are drawn to the city," the Russian said with a big smile. "You have curves. You have the air of sophistication. Yet, you cannot compare to the beauty of the land he loves."

She considered his words, knowing that he was an honest, good-hearted man. Any reference to her physical beauty was merely an observation. His heart belonged somewhere else. "Do you think so?"

He nodded. "I have seen Nightwing look at your sister in the same way. He looks to her and then looks away to something else. Nightwing will never settle down for his life is about his mission. The same with this Steven Hinkle."

"Then he is a good man," Diana said.

Leonid laughed and started to peel his banana. "He is fool! A man has chance to kiss Wonder Woman, he should not look at dirty city street!"

"You are an absolute pig, Red Star," she said, but her tone suggested that she understood what his meaning was. He meant no offense.

"Nyet," he said, shaking his head. "Russian men know when to kiss the pretty girls and when to serve their country. We just happen to prefer to kiss the pretty girls!"

"Entschuldigung (_Excuse me_)," the driver said. "Aber ich weis ein wenig über die Gegen in die wir gehen und es koennte sein, dass ich helfen kann. In der Naehe lebt eine aeltere Dame, die bereits waehrend dem Krieg hier war (_But I happen to know a little about the area we are going to and I might be able to offer some help. There is an older lady that lives nearby that was here during the war_)."

Diana grew excited. "Koennen Sie uns zu ihr bringen (_Could you take us there_)?" she asked.

"Ja, ich werde sie zu ihr bringen, kein Problem (_Yes, I will take you, no problem_)!" the driver replied, truly happy to make the Amazon Princess smile. The Russian looked dumbfounded, continuing to eat his banana.


	12. Chapter 11

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 11

By Christopher W. Blaine

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DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

The car had finally stopped in front of a house in a small neighborhood of a town whose name Wonder Woman did not know. It was not important. The person they were going to see, though, was. The driver had explained that Mrs. Schultz, a widow who had once been the prized beauty of the town, had been spending the last few years putting together the history of the area for publication.

The driver got out of the car and ran up to the front door and knocked, Wonder Woman and Red Star remained seated in the back of the vehicle. "Perhaps I should stay out here," Red Star offered. "My countrymen and I are still not welcome by many of the older residents. To many of them, the Soviet army was a thousand times worse than the Nazis."

"And I am sure some of them have good reasons for believing such a thing, Leonid," she said, watching the driver speak to someone they could not see. "War brings out the worst in men and that can be a very dark thing indeed. The western allies came to Germany to end a war, to bring about peace; the Russians arrived for revenge. And you have already made it plainly clear what the Russian morality on revenge is."

Red Star shrugged. "They should not have picked a fight they could not win."

Wonder Woman shook her head, but smiled at the same time. Was she as fierce in her national pride? What would her remarks be if some rival nation decided they wanted a war with the Amazons? "Ah, the driver returns!"

She rolled down the window and her and the other man conversed in low tones, again in German, which left Red Star in the cold. He leaned back into a corner and observed the body language of the driver and assumed that they had both been invited in. The truth was the big Russian felt this was all a waste of time. In his mind everything came down to whatever it was Dr. Melch was working on during the war and he had probably left a clue to its secret somewhere on his property. No doubt it was a weapon of mass destruction and Red Star was there to make sure that the Germans eliminated it, whatever it was, so that there was no threat to Russia.

Coming here for a history lesson, which would probably be in German, seemed frivolous. He was still thinking that as he sat down in the comfortable living room of the small house, watching as the older woman moved off to the kitchen. Wonder Woman explained she was going to get coffee and Red Star simply nodded.

He looked all around the room and saw piles upon piles of books, but strangely nothing relating to the war years. Then he remembered the German ban on such materials. Still, it fascinated him that such an important part of their history was virtually being swept under the rug. The Russians had their own dark period as well, but nobody was trying to forget who Stalin was or his atrocities against the Russian people. If you did not know about the mistakes of the past, you were doomed to repeat them he thought.

Mrs. Schultz returned with a large silver tray full of cups, decanters and several small piles of cookies. Immediately Red Star was up and took the tray from her. Surprisingly she thanked him in accented Russian. When he tried to speak with her she held up a withered hand and smiled with her thin lips. In German and through Wonder Woman, she explained that she had learned how to say please, thank you and where is the bathroom in several languages as a young woman when she had dreams of traveling the world.

Red Star, unable to do much else except listen to Wonder Woman relay the conversation to him, poured the coffee. Mrs. Schultz took hers black, while Wonder Woman had cream. The Russian dumped some sugar in a cup and then poured coffee over it, all the while grabbing a few cookies. Wonder Woman eyed him, eyed his muscles and then understood why he had to work out so much. Otherwise he probably would weigh hundreds of pounds!

"Frau Schultz, mir wurde gesagt, dass sie sehr viel über diese Gegend wissen (_Mrs. Schultz, I have been told you are knowledgeable of the local area_)," Wonder Woman began. "Wir interessieren uns sehr fuer Dr. Melch und seine Familie (_We are very interested in learning about Dr. Melch and his family_)."

Mrs. Schultz smiled again and gazed at Wonder Woman. "Wie sehr wuenschte ich, ich haette meine Schoenheit so erhalten koennen wie ihre. Ich erinnere mich, dass ich ueber Sie nach dem Krieg gelesen habe. Ich war nur ein kleines Maedchen, aber ich hatte schon so viel gesehen. So viel Tod und Zerstoerung und dann waren da Sie, so schoen, and huebsch (_How I wish I could have retained my beauty as you have. I remember reading about you after the war. I was just a little girl, but I had seen so much. So much death and destruction and then there you were, so beautiful and pretty_)…"

Wonder Woman reached over and put her smooth hand over the older woman's, giving it a squeeze. "Ich wuenschte, ich koennte so ein warmes Kompliment annehmen, aber Sie sprechen von meiner Mutter, die ein Mitglied der All-Star Squadron der Vereinigten Staaten war (_I wish I could accept such a warm compliment, but you are speaking of my mother, who was a member of the All-Star Squadron in the United States_)."

The German woman seemed slightly disappointed at the revelation, but still remained cheerful nonetheless. She tapped her chin for a few seconds, trying to figure out exactly how to begin the story. Finally, she, appropriately enough, started at the beginning.

"Ich habe nie jemanden von dieser Familie getroffen, aber ich weiss durch meine Nachforschungen, dass es eine stolze Familie mit einer Familien-Linie war, die weit zurueck bis zur Zeit der Kreuzzuege geht. Seit Generationen meldeten sich die jungen Maenner zu jeder Unternehmung die ihre Anfuehrer an sie herantrugen (_I never met any of that family, but I do know from my research that it was a proud family with a family line that stretched back to the time of the Crusades. For centuries the young men of the family line offered themselves up to any and every cause that their leaders pointed them towards_)." She sighed and shook her head, finally starting up again in a voice that was tinged with regret. She explained that many of the males of the family were killed in World War 1 and that the females, all beautiful women, married into other families in order to try and bolster the sagging worth of the Melch holdings.

Despite all of that, the Melch estate started to fall into disrepair and by the time the war had started, the family was near bankruptcy. "Dr. Melch entschied sich frueh, die Nazis zu unterstuetzen, er glaubte, das sei der einzige Weg, sein Leben zu verbessern. Sein Sohn, Heinrich, wurde weggeschickt, um ein SS Offizier zu werden. Es half nicht, die Familie verlor ihren Besitz im Jahre 1942, nach den Aufzeichnungen. Es wurde von einem rivalisierenden Landbesitzter gekauft, der nicht Mitglied der Partei war (_Dr. Melch decided early on to join the Nazis, feeling that it was the only way to improve his lot in life. His son, Heinrich, was turned over for training to become an SS officer. It did not help matters, though; the estate was finally lost to the family in 1942 according to the records. It was purchased by a rival landowner who was not a member of the party_)."

From there she went on to explain that the Melch's disappeared from the area for the next three years until, suddenly, Dr. Melch returned to the estate. It had, the rumors were, been repurchased by Heinrich Himmler himself to be given to Melch. Some thought it was a way of rewarding him for years of faithful service to the Reich, but others felt there were more sinister motives. "Dr. Melch war ein Experte fuer menschliche Mutationen und hat an ein paar Projekten mit Josef Mengele gearbeitet (_Dr. Melch was an expert on human mutations and he had done some work with Josef Mengele_)," she told Wonder Woman, referring to infamous head physician of the Auschwitz death camp. "Viele aeltere Maenner aus der Gegend behaupten er hat daran gearbeitet, eine Deutsche Version von Green Lantern oder dem Adlermann zu erschaffen. Kein Propaganda-Werkzeug wie Kapitaen Nazi oder Baron Blitzkrieg, sondern einen echten Deutschen Super-Mann (_Many of the older men of the area claimed that he had been working on trying to create a German version of Green Lantern or the Hawkman. Not some propaganda tool like Captain Nazi or Baron Blitzkrieg, but a true German super man_)."

Wonder Woman asked if Baron Blitzkrieg had ever been in the area and the woman shook her head. That would not have been likely, considering the Baron seemed more interested in fighting his battles in the United States. In fact, she would have been very surprised that he would involve himself in anything of the sort. "Der Baron, wenn Sie ihre Geschichte kennen, war furchtbar verwundet durch einen Angriff eines Gefaengnis-Insassen. Hitlers Wisschenschaftlern gelang es, gewissen Mutanten-Kraefte in seinem Gehirn zu aktivieren, aber sie haben sein Gesicht nie reparieren koennen. Er lehnte es ab. Er muss es abgelehnt haben (_The Baron, if you know your history, was horribly scarred by an attack by a prison inmate. Hitler's scientists were able to activate certain mutant powers in his brain, but they never repaired his face. He resented that; he had to have resented that_)," she repeated.

The Amazon leaned back and nodded her head slowly. It might have explained why he had been against the idea of the Automan Project; perhaps he did not want to see another German soldier subjugated to the whims of the scientists of the Third Reich. Then, something even more shocking entered her mind. Maybe Dr. Melch was one of the scientists that had helped create Baron Blitzkrieg!

She pushed the issue with Mrs. Schultz, feeling that there was something here she simply was not seeing. The older woman was patient with her answers and then, almost casually; she informed the two heroes that the Baron had been Melch's nephew by way of his eldest sister. "Eine atemberaubende Schoenheit, wenn es je eine in ganz Deutschland gab. Sie heiratete in Prussischen Wohlstand ein. Der Baron erbte das Aussehen seiner Mutter, er war eine schoene Person, vor seinem... Unfall (_A ravishing beauty if there ever was one in all of Germany. She married into Prussian nobility. The Baron inherited his mother's looks, he was a dashing figure before his…accident_)." But Wonder Woman knew that outer beauty meant nothing if the heart was cold and Baron Blitzkrieg had proven time and time again he was nothing but a despot in golden armor.

The older woman seemed to sense Wonder Woman's unease and she made an effort to explain. "Egal was er spaeter in seinem Leben getan hat, er war ein schoener Mann. Und das seltsamste von allem, warum sollte er ein Leben im Luxus aufgeben, das er vor dem Krieg hatte, um etwas so anderes zu werden? Er war ein Mann, der Deutschland geliebt hat, wie die Maenner seiner Blutlinie (_Regardless of what he did later in life, he was a handsome man. And that is strangest part of all, why he would surrender the life of luxury he had before the war to become something so different. He was a man who loved Germany, as did the men of his bloodline_)."

Wonder Woman decided to steer the conversation back on track. She asked if there was any evidence that Dr. Melch had been successful in his attempts. Mrs. Schultz said that before the war ended, Dr. Melch spent only a few weeks on his estate and then the Allies seized it. A lawyer representing Melch successfully sued to have the estate returned to the scientist after he was convicted of war crimes, even though he could not physically live on it. "Traurig, es ist verfallen. Eine Schande, wirklich! Ich erinnere mich daran aus meiner Kindheit als eine Art lokale Attraktion. Sogar dann, als viele Gebaeude zerstoert waren, war es ein grandioser Anblick (_Sadly, it fell into disrepair, a shame really. I remember it as a little girl; it was a sort of local attraction. Even then, with many of the buildings torn down, it was a glorious sight to behold_)."

They spoke for another hour and Wonder Woman began to paint a scenario in her head. Whatever the Atoman Project was, it most likely had been a failure, but all of the evidence, notes or whatever, had been given to Dr. Melch, which he hid away on his estate. The Atoman Project had been known to the Soviets, but they had not been willing to share what they knew about it with the Americans, who had, at the time, control over Melch. So, for decades the secret of the project, which was no doubt a way to try and create a German super-hero, was kept hidden away in three parts.

First there was the evidence that the Soviets had discovered right after the war. Second there was the assistant to Dr. Teufel, the true genius behind the technology, the strange German aristocrat Dr, Melch. Third there was Dr. Teufel, a man who betrayed his own people in the name of science.

After politely refusing to stay for dinner (which earned Wonder Woman a scornful look from Red Star), the Amazon princess announced that they had to leave. They were already behind schedule as it was and no doubt Donna was going to be upset. She had telephoned Wonder Woman and told her that something strange was buried on the Melch property. Steven was probably already there as well with the information on Baron Blitzkrieg so they could cross-reference the data they had.

Which made her wonder, what had the Seraph come across, or specifically who, that caused him to be murdered. What was the secret that was worth keeping all of these years and who wanted to keep it?

Teufel and Melch were dead. Baron Blitzkrieg had to be dead; especially after the beating he had taken combating Wonder Woman's mother all of those years ago. Who else could it be, and did they have the power to not only combat, but also kill a renowned super-hero such as the Seraph?

They stepped out onto the front porch and Red Star happily accepted a plate of cookies. Wonder Woman could not help but smile as Mrs. Schultz explained. "Viele sprechen davon, wie schlimm die Sowjets waren, als sie nach Deutschland kamen, aber ich habe viele getroffen, die nicht nur nett waren, sondern auch richtige Gentlemen. Sie haben mich und meine Familie mit Respekt behandelt und ich habe das nie vergessen. Ich verurteile die Leute nicht fuer die Fehler der Regierung (_Many talk about how terrible the Soviets were when they came into Germany, but I met many who were not only kind, but were gentlemen as well. They treated me and my family with respect and I have never forgotten that. I do not blame the people for the problems of the government_)."

It was a philosophy that was perplexing and gratifying at the same time. Wonder Woman was fully aware of the prejudice against Germans throughout the world, despite the reunification of the country. Many people still saw the scourge of the Nazis and blamed every German citizen for the actions of the government at that time.

Yet, here was a woman who had not let that bring her down, had not let that hatred of the world blacken her attitude. How many Americans would have offered cookies to a communist?

Their car was parked down the small avenue and the heroes, clad in long trench coats to hide their costumes, began the short walk towards it. "My government believes that, given the evidence, it is Baron Blitzkrieg that is behind this."

That surprised her. The day was just full of fresh thinking. She really needed to get away from the Justice League more often she told herself. "Really?"

"You should confirm with your mother, of course, but we were told by our sources that the Seraph was killed by someone of great strength and with heat vision. Either it is Superman or it is the Baron."

"Other heroes have similar abilities," Wonder Woman pointed out. "The Martian Manhunter for one."

"None of them have reason to kill an Israeli super-hero. If it were terrorists or Islamists, they would have taken credit for the killing. If it were radical Jewish forces, they too would have taken credit." The Russian brought the plate of cookies up to his nose and sniffed. "Ah, so very tempting. You do know that the Seraph was not an agent of the Mossad, the Israeli secret service," he told her.

"No, I was not aware. I just assumed he had been."

Red Star shook his head. "Nyet. They tried for years to recruit him, but he felt that if he became a tool of his government, it would somehow corrupt what he said was his holy mission."

"I did understand that he believed his powers came from his god," she said. Then she stopped. "But to think that Blitzkrieg survived all of these years is ludicrous."

"We are a Russian given powers by a meteorite and an Amazon shaped from clay, how can you think such a thing is impossible?" he asked, genuine disbelief in his voice.

She had never quite looked at it that way and she supposed that in her efforts to become more in tune with the common people, she had started to think like them. The truth was, though, no matter how she sliced it, she was not one of them. She was different. She was Diana, princess of the Amazons, an immortal beauty who would never know the indignities of a gray hair or "smile lines". She had died once before and had been lifted up to Mount Olympus to be crowned the Goddess of Truth.

Then she thought about the various dire events in the lives of her friends and comrades. Superman had been killed by Doomsday, only to return to life a year later. Batman had his back broken and yet he swung from rooftop to rooftop in Gotham City every night. Hal Jordan, greatest of the Green Lanterns, had gone insane and eventually committed suicide, only to return to life as the Spectre.

Was it so hard to believe that someone like Baron Blitzkrieg could also cheat death? If anything, the Baron had been intelligent and cunning; surely he could have had a back-up plan in mind whenever he had last fought Wonder Woman's mother. Was it really possible that a World War 2 villain was out there, killing modern day super-heroes?

Red Star seemed to read her thoughts. "Even today, the Justice Society, formed before the war in the late 1930's, still operates with some of the original members. One thing we have learned in Russia over the years is not to expect everything to remain normal. Personally, I would have believed that communism would last forever, not knowing that the poison of capitalistic ideals would turn my country into the cesspool of crime and pornography it is today." There was a bitter edge to his tone and Wonder Woman sympathized with him. It was hard seeing Eden rot away she was once told by the Batman as he described his motivation for fighting his war on crime.

"If he were alive, where would he be?" Wonder Woman asked, probing Red Star for as much information as she could get. Obviously he had gotten a good briefing before he left Moscow.

"Our intelligence suggests that he would have traveled frequently over the last few decades in order to avoid Nazi hunters. He would have changed his appearance so that he could blend in with the normal people," Red Star said, tossing political correctness aside. "In essence, he could be anyone and anywhere."

"But he's obviously come back to Germany," Wonder Woman pointed out. 'He must be here and he must have some serious sources to know what the Seraph was up to."

Red Star shrugged and they continued their walk. "As we do not know the extent of his condition, we cannot assume anything about his operations. He could be a wheelchair bound blithering idiot with followers that look upon him as the reincarnation of Hitler. He could also be immortal like you. He could have been a shape shifter or an alien. The fact is that we know very little about him except that he was once a Prussian nobleman."

The conversation stooped dead then as the ground shook from the arrival of four Asian women in power armor. They came down out of the sky like avenging angels and landed so hard on the street that they sank several inches into it. One of them fired a power blast from their wrist gauntlets. Red Star flew back, struck squarely in the chest by the blast. His plate of cookies went high into the air and then crashed on the sidewalk, spilling the treats everywhere.

Wonder Woman immediately brought her arms up and deflected several blasts with her bracers. Her speed was like lightning and after the barrage had been successfully defeated, she tore off her coat to reveal the familiar costume underneath. "Now is not the time to make me angry," she told them.

One of the women, the obvious leader, slowly moved forward. Her power armor made quiet hydraulic noises as she did so. "Our orders are to stop you, Amazon; we've been promised a hefty sum to put an end to your investigation. A shame, really, I would have offered you a place on my team otherwise."

Wonder Woman could not place the voice, but the slight British accent indicated the woman was most likely from Hong King. Not that it mattered to her, really. They were challenging her to a fight and they were going to be, she was sure, very sorry for it.


	13. Chapter 12

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 12

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

Red Star shook his head, futilely trying to clear the ringing out of it and then he realized that the sound was not coming from within, but from everywhere else. Fire alarms, car alarms and every other type of emergency signal was blaring as Wonder Woman fought off four armored attackers.

Obviously they thought that the big Russian was down for the count, but that was far from the truth. Surely the strike to his chest had caught him off-guard and he was more than a little embarrassed. For all intents and purposes, he was the Superman of Russia and he had a certain amount of pride in that fact. Being surprised by four women in large suits of power armor was not something he intended to keep on his super-hero resume.

He got up out of the wreckage and yelled for the helpful German citizens to stay back. He barked it in Russian and he noted that many faces changed expression. Had they not noticed the large red star emblem on his chest? He looked down to see that part of his costume had been blackened, obscuring his socialistic background.

He did not have time to try and explain his situation; innocent people could get hurt and while he had no policing authority like Wonder Woman, he was not about to stand by and allow these criminals to cause mayhem unchecked. He summoned forth the incredible energies that were locked in his body and put his hands in front of him as a way to focus. A power blast of heat launched forward and caught one of the armored women on the left, sending her spinning. She fell to the ground, armor smoking but otherwise undamaged. Red Star grinned; he would be able to use a little more power against these foes. In his country, he constantly had to hold back for fear of killing someone.

One of the other women, seeing that Red Star was up leapt into the air on twin jets of flame and tried to swoop down on him. He was fast for his size as she soon found out and he dodged her attack with ease. Allowing her to pass by, he quickly whirled and fired another blast at her backside.

The woman screamed in pain as he had applied more to this attack and no doubt her posterior had taken a roasting. But his victory was short-lived as the woman he had attacked first let loose with a power blast of her own. Unlike him, the women in the power armor were not shy about holding back and he took the full force of the strike in his shoulder.

The ground came up at him quickly and he tasted concrete. Then a shadow flew over him and he instinctively rolled as the woman with the burning butt fired at him from above. He continued to roll until he had enough time to get back on his feet. His shoulder ached and burned, but he was far from being out of the fight.

He could also say the same about his Amazon companion who was fighting like a true warrior. One of her assailants had a damaged arm from where Wonder Woman had literally torn away the armor plating and ripped out the wires inside. The other, the leader, was backing away with a crumpled torso plate. Any time they tried to fire at her, she merely deflected the blasts, sometimes into the air, sometimes into the ground. Small fires had started around their feet as all of them tried to gain a position of advantage.

"Stop this madness!" Wonder Woman ordered. "Innocent people and children could be harmed!"

The leader laughed, her voice and manner betraying a personality used to giving orders and not taking them. "Our employer does not worry about such things. Collateral damage gets a bonus in fact."

"Animals!" Wonder Woman replied, pulling out her magic lasso. In one fluid motion she threw it out where it wrapped around the good arm of the second foe. The Amazon princess jumped into the air and then pulled, dragging the armored woman along with her. She started to move away from the fight, hoping that her prisoner would be the bait to get the others to follow. Instead of jumping into the air after the hero, the leader of the foursome instead turned towards a home and fired several blasts into it. Wood, brick and glass shattered under the incredible force and heat and soon black smoke was pouring out the hole that had been made. "Merciful Minerva!" Wonder Woman said as she dropped her quarry to the ground below. Headfirst the terrorist rammed into the concrete road and sank down to her neck.

With a grace that belied her rage, Wonder Woman raced towards the leader, who turned just in time to grab the Amazon's outstretched arms. Lifting off gently from the ground, the woman locked hands with Wonder Woman in the start of an aerial wrestling match. Up close Wonder Woman could tell that the woman was older, but no less beautiful, then she first imagined. Definitely Asian, she had the beginnings or perhaps the ending of a tattoo visible on her neck.

Her power armor was slightly different as well and it was obvious it was a more powerful model. Wonder Woman was strong, some said as strong as Superman on a bad day, but this woman was able to go toe to toe with her. Several thoughts raced through the Amazon's mind as she applied more pressure and she wondered if Batman ever performed deductions while he was fighting?

In order to afford armor like this, the woman and her friends had to have significant monetary backing. Considering that she had never heard of them, but they were apparently veterans of this sort of thing, added to her racial origins, suggested that this was a mercenary who worked for a very secretive employer. That left very few persons that Wonder Woman could consider.

The Asian woman seemed to sense some hesitation and went for a groin kick. It missed the pubic region but did strike hard against a thigh muscle that was like steel. Normally Wonder Woman would not have even acknowledged the blow, but the strength of the exoskeleton in the power armor was enough to cause her pain. By reflex she let go and took another kick to the midsection that sent her flying.

She passed over Red Star who did not bother to look up but had instead opted for the more primitive style of trading blows with one of his foes. He would strike and then the woman would strike, all the while the one whom he referred to as "Burnt Butt" circled overhead trying to line up a shot on him. It was difficult but he managed to keep moving enough that there was no way to hit him with one of the power blasts and not hit the woman he was fighting.

Each blow was wearing him down, however, and his costume had borne as much of the assault as his body had. It was covered with scorch marks and blood, torn in several places and did not present the neat and trim appearance he strove for. After receiving a punch that knocked a tooth loose, he lost his temper and channeled some of his internal power into a blow. The combination of raw strength and enhanced heat allowed him to punch through the damaged armor plating and he heard a satisfying snap as a collarbone broke under his attack.

The woman screamed in pain and immediately lit off her boot jets to get out of the area; she was no longer able to participate in the fight. "Burnt Butt" saw her chance but never was able to take it. Even as she lined up to fire a high-intensity plasma beam at Red Star's back, Wonder Woman streaked in and landed a haymaker punch that sent the terrorist sailing high into the air.

"You have my thanks, Princess Diana," Red Star said as he pulled off the tattered remains of his shirt. His muscular chest rippled in anticipation of their next foe, but it appeared that the others had enough. Of the four, only the leader's battlesuit seemed unharmed and she kept her distance from the two heroes.

"You will not get away," Wonder Woman promised as she inched closer.

The leader laughed. "I do not think your threats mean anything today, Wonder Woman," she said triumphantly. Wonder Woman paused and then took in the scene of carnage that had been wrought.

Fully three houses were severely damaged and on fire; the sirens of the rescue and emergency personnel now becoming louder. There were moans and pleas for help coming from one and Red Star did not hesitate to turn on his heel and race into one of the burning homes.

Several yards were torn up and the street was impassable from the heated asphalt and concrete and the huge potholes. Trees were smoldering and children were crying as parents grabbed them and tried to vacate the area. "Too much damage has been done today," the woman said, starting to turn. "You either let me go or perhaps an innocent dies because they were not pulled from a fire quick enough. I know you heroes; you'll let me go."

Wonder Woman said nothing, but the fiery stare from her eyes told the terrorist that she was correct in her assessment of the Amazon's actions. There was no way she would jeopardize the lives of the people of this neighborhood just so she could capture one super-villain.

She watched them fly away, noting their direction for Steven and then dropped to the ground to lend Red Star a hand with the wounded.

The four traveled under the detection range for radar for several kilometers until they reached the forest that their Land Rover was parked in. They landed; the three wounded making whimpering sounds as they pulled off their armored suits. Their leader took her time and assisted as well as she could.

A man stepped out of the woods, zipping his fly. "I'm here!" he called out in an English accent. He ran over to the leader and aided her in removing the last of her armor. "You were successful today?"

The leader shook her head. "We delayed them only for a short while, which means I have to pay back half of the retainer," she said with disgust in her voice. It was plainly obvious that the idea of losing so much money turned her stomach. "Help them, Matthew," she said, pointing to her comrades. "Rose Petal has some broken bones and Cherry Blossom has a burned posterior," she added with sarcasm.

"I will apply soothing ointment to it at once," he said with a devilish grin. He moved over to the other women and they immediately surrounded him, explaining how they were hurt. White Orchid, the least damaged of the three, was put to work gathering parts of the suits. The armor suits incorporated technology that had been originally patented by Ted Kord, Ray Palmer and even one from Wally West, based on designs by Barry Allen. With the press of a button, the armored components shrank down to a tenth of their original size, except in cases where the button had been damaged or the component so mangled that shrinking would harm it.

"Rose Petal's suit is a wash," he announced. "Damn Russian severed the main neural line from the headpiece to the entire left side."

"Bury it and then let's get out of here," their leader said as she stripped off her spandex undersuit and let the cool German air brush over her exposed flesh. Matthew cast an approving glance and then went back to his duties. Though he was full of proper manners and etiquette, he was not a dullard. In fact, he was important to the Secret Garden as herself and her operatives. Often times it was Matthew that made the deals for them and he was rewarded in many, many ways.

Which reminded her that she had better contact her employer and give her report. She had hoped that by pulling a job for Ra's Al Ghul she could get lined up for some work in the United States, but she had, in her opinion, totally messed this one up. She walked naked over to the Land Rover and opened the driver's side door where here videophone sat where she had left it.

"I programmed our employer's access into it while you were gone, madam," Matthew called as he broke open an emergency first aid kit. Cherry Blossom wasn't just burned, the leader noted, she was downright toasted. Red blisters had been raised on her shapely buttocks and she would need real medical attention.

The leader sighed; more money gone including the cost of a new set of armor! She pressed the call button and waited a moment as the connection was made. "Ah, Miss Mantis," Ra's Al Ghul said with faux joy. "I was not expecting your call for another half hour. You must be very good to have disposed of Wonder Woman and Red Star so quickly."

She shook her head, her almond-shaped eyes betraying her shame. "We only managed to delay them, perhaps for another three hours at most. We were not prepared for the savagery of the Russian's attacks."

"Yes, well the Russians do look at fighting a little differently than the Americans and of course, Wonder Woman comes from a warrior race." He smiled warmly. "You did your best, I am sure. I could not expect much more from mere amateurs." The rebuke stung, but she knew that she deserved it for failing. "Still, three hours maybe enough time to allow _my_ people to move in and do their job."

"I am sure that once we are outfitted again…"

"Oh, do not bother trying to give me assurances you cannot possibly make good on, my dear," Ra's said with a sneer. "Were it not for your beauty and, how should I say this, bedchamber abilities, you would not have even been considered for this job to begin with. I threw you a bone and like a good bitch, you fetched upon command."

"No man speaks to me that way," she said, gritting her teeth. "I am not a whore!"

"No, dear lady, it would take a great deal of time and practice for you to achieve that level; a whore would be better at sex…much better," he said, ending the conversation. Mantis took the phone, screamed, and threw it hard at the ground. Then she took out her anger on her SUV. For several moments the forest was permeated with the ravings of an extremely angry woman.

The other members of Secret Garden remained silent, even Matthew refrained from asking Miss Mantis to calm down. Very rarely did their leader allow her baser emotions to get the best of her and when it did happen, it was everyone's judgment to allow the thunder to roar. The storm would eventually pass.

By the time her tantrum was over with, the diminutive mercenary had taken out two of the windows and severely damaged a front quarter panel. Matthew finished his duties quickly and then moved over to his employer. He scooped up a blanket from the exposed rear of the vehicle and put it around Miss Mantis.

Her eyes, filled with tears of anger, betrayal and shame fell easily. She had given up any pretenses of maintaining a façade in front of Matthew or the others many years before. They were a family, a strange one to be sure, but they were unafraid to show their emotions. She had even gone so far as to explain that tears were nothing more than liquid hate and people were forced to shed them to keep from exploding.

Matthew pulled her close and she easily accepted the embrace. They had been, for years, occasional lovers and sometimes even more. Yet she was in charge of the business and he was the employee, just as the other women were. "He must be made to pay," he whispered to her, knowing that was what she wanted to hear.

"He is too powerful," she stated.

"Then we do not attack him directly. We are no longer his friends; we never were," Matthew announced and the others all agreed. White Orchid stepped away from her job of putting the suits in the Land Rover and came to stand behind Matthew. "You give the order and I will kill the dog myself," she announced.

Of all of them, White Orchid was perhaps the most beautiful, but also was the most loyal. The only true Japanese among the group, she based her life on an honor code few could understand. "We failed our contract, but that does not give him the right to stain our honor so."

Matthew pulled Miss Mantis even closer. Suddenly, she backed away, and started to wipe the tears from her eyes. "You are both right; he must be made to pay but we cannot attack him personally. He said something about his own people moving in to finish the job."

Matthew nodded and grinned. "I'm on it," he said, running to get his laptop computer. Miss Mantis then moved over and kissed White Orchid full on the lips. "You and I will deliver a painful reminder to Ra's Al Ghul who he is dealing with. Perhaps we weren't good enough to stop Wonder Woman, but we do know why he wanted her delayed." She then took White Orchid's hand and pulled her towards the collapsed suits. "We must suit up again."


	14. Chapter 13

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 13

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

The bus was black with tinted windows and wheels that shined from heavy polishing. It appeared to be the kind of vehicle a traveling rock and roll band would use and there were certainly many of them traveling through Europe. As such, the young German soldiers did not think too much of it as the bus approached the front of the estate in the early morning hours.

The officer in charge held up a hand, indicating that the bus was to stop and it complied almost immediately. With a great rush of air, the brakes were applied and the side door started to open. The officer, as well as his two escorts, wondered who it was they were going to see. Perhaps one of the little blond American pop princesses? That would certainly be a treat!

Three shots, fired from a silenced pistol, took down the three soldiers. Before their bodies had collapsed onto the gravel of the parking area, black clad figures were pouring out of the bus and separating into prearranged groups. No sound was made, even as the "clean-up" crew moved out to collect the corpses.

One small group moved away from the estate, to the area that had been clearly marked as a radiation hazard with yellow and magenta striped rope. The rest approached the estate from every entrance and exit. With military precision they ensured every guard and soldier was eliminated. No mercy was shown to any unfortunate soul in uniform.

The small barracks that had been erected to house guards off duty was the scene of the worst of the slaughter. At this hour, all of the inhabitants were sound asleep and it was as they dreamed that their throats were slit. Eyes would suddenly open as the room became filled with the sounds of gurgling and tripping as the soldiers vainly fought to remain in this world.

Inside the estate proper, most of the researchers complied like sheep being led to the slaughterhouse. They were not warriors and the sight of black clad gunmen was enough to drain away their resolve. One team moved to the private rooms, seeking out any researchers that had not yet been discovered. Now that there was no need for stealth, they wasted no time in just kicking in doors and rousting the occupants from their beds.

The door to Donna's room came open and the first two figures that entered, yelling at the top of their lungs in several languages, found themselves facing a very angry German man. Behind him was Donna, quickly putting on her costume and wishing she had some sort of power that would just let her spin in a circle to change.

Henry wasted no time with speech and punched the first intruder squarely in the face. The second one moved past his flailing comrade and went to deliver a hay maker to Henry. In a move that Donna immediately recognized as Japanese in origin, Henry stepped out at a 45 degree angle and struck out with his fist, catching his assailant's arm at the wrist. Then he applied a blow called a _shudo_, a strong strike to the neck.

Donna stepped back, clad in her costume sans her boots and watched as Henry dispatched the two intruders and then stepped forward to find some more. "Hey, handsome," she called out. "Maybe in Germany its fashionable to beat other men while naked, but in America its kind of weird."

Henry stopped and looked down and blushed. "I was hoping to end this quickly so we could perhaps…"

"Man of my dreams," she said with a smile. She moved past him. "I'll handle this. Find my boots for me," she said with a laugh.

In the hallway Troia found herself in the middle of chaos. Students and researchers were being forced out of their rooms, some of them only dressed in their underwear; some in even less. She moved quickly to the nearest group, grabbed someone dressed all in black and tossed them through the wall. That person's partner, a woman by the shape of the figure, turned quickly and pointed an automatic pistol at the hero.

Troia grabbed it and squeezed, crushing the weapon with her Amazonian strength. As the prisoners ran back into their room screaming, the unknown woman punched Troia in the jaw with her free hand. By her howl of pain, Troia knew she had bruised some knuckles. "Dumb ass," she said despite herself. After all of the years she had been a super-hero with world-wide press coverage, it still surprised her when normal people tried to hurt her with simple punches and kicks.

Shoving the woman aside roughly, Troia stomped towards the next group. Three men in black saw her coming and one of them had the good sense to grab a prisoner and put a weapon to their head. "Stay back, Wonder Woman," the man said, his accent placing him as Australian.

She blew out hard. "Do you see a couple of letters on my chest? Is my costume red, white and blue?" She put her arms up in the air. "I'm Troia, the other dark-haired chick."

"Don't get smart with me, Sheila," the man said, using a common term for women from his country, "you take another step and you'll be responsible for a murder."

"Yeah, yours," she bluffed, realizing that at the moment she was stuck. She had been in bad situations before, but there were simply too many civilians around for her to cut loose with her strength.

She sensed Henry coming up behind her. "You just hold it right there, big fella," another of the men said, this one with a southern American accent. Henry came up behind Troia and put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you attack them?" he whispered.

"Hostage," she said silently.

"Okay, now," the Aussie said, stepping back with his prisoner. "I have an itchy trigger finger, Wonder Woman…"

"Troia!"

The man sneered. "Whatever! Just take it nice and easy and I won't have to kill this nice little researcher."

Henry put his hands up and followed behind Troia. "Who are you, what is this all about?" he asked. Troia was glad he was doing the talking; it gave her time to assess the situation and perhaps come up with a plan of action. The terrorists, for that was the only thing they could be, led them down the stairs and towards what had been a sitting room. Inside were the researchers and the bodies of two soldiers. Instantly she felt both rage and sadness when she saw the corpses. These were people who meant business and there was no way she could risk doing anything that could get any innocents hurt.

An entourage entered from the back entrance to the room, a man clad in black but with his mask removed at the lead. He was older than Henry, but in remarkable physical shape. His long black hair was tied back in a ponytail and there was a look of perpetual arrogance on his face.

He spoke clearly and loudly with a heavy German accent. "All of you shut up, now!" he bellowed. Almost immediately there was silence. Only the occasional sniffle broke the tension as the man looked around the room, gaging all reactions. His eyes drifted onto Troia. "An American super-hero…how interesting…Troia, is it not?"

She said nothing, but nodded her head slowly. "A member of the Titans…you are a long way from home."

"I came to view the countryside," she replied, not able to think of anything else. She knew the man's face, but could not quite place it.

"You picked a very bad time," he said. Then he turned to some of his followers and started giving orders in Arabic. This was obviously a well-ordered and well-funded group, drawing members from all over the world. She was also sure that this man who directed them was someone of importance, someone that her brain was telling her that she should be very wary of.

The man stepped into the middle of the room and addressed the crowd. "As of now, you are all my prisoners. Who we are and what we represent, our ideologies and beliefs, are of no concern to you. Comply with our demands and you _might_ live; disobedience will result in punishment that _might_ include death, torture, rape…whatever I decide. As of now I am your mother, your father, your god and your devil. Is there anyone here that does not understand these instructions?" He waited and then turned his attention to Troia. "You would be very hard to kill, so anything that you do will result in something unfortunate happening to the youngest member of this group, whomever that might be."

He then noticed Henry, who was clad only in pants and an open shirt. "You! Who are you?" the terrorist asked. He gave Henry a once over. "You are built like a soldier…"

"Mein Name ist Mueller, Henry Mueller. Ich bin ein freiberuflicher Berichtserstatter bei der Absicherung einer Recherche im Bezug auf Troia (_My name is Miller, Henry Miller. I am a freelance reporter covering an investigation involving Troia_)," he replied.

The terrorist laughed. "You will speak in English, fool; I doubt that you and I are of the same Aryan stock. You appear too…common…"

Henry stiffened at the criticism and his eyes began to smolder with a burning hatred. "I…"

"Shut up!" the dark-haired man ordered and the room became deathly quiet. "Is there anyone here who does not comprehend the predicament that you find yourselves in? You are all prisoners and you will comply with our demands!"

He then scanned the crowd once again, as if he were searching for someone. "Where is the lead scientist…the Brit?" he asked.

A young woman raised her hand and he ordered her to speak. "Your men killed him," she offered weakly.

The leader closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. After several seconds of holding his breath, he let it out slowly and then turned to face Troia. "Then your presence is of great fortune for me, young hero," he said with a smirk.

"I just got here a day ago," she said, holding her chin up so as to demonstrate she was corralled, but not beaten. "And, as you have pointed out, I'm a super-hero, not a scientist."

"You are an Amazon, correct?" he asked. She nodded and he seemed to relax. "Then you have a certain resistance to radiation, correct?"

"Yes," she said slowly, wondering exactly what the terrorist was getting to. "I'm not invulnerable, though."

The terrorist shrugged. "That is your problem, not mine." To emphasize the point, he drew his pistol, a German design, and pointed it towards the young woman who had originally answered him about the lead scientist. He pulled the trigger and after the screeches, screams and yells, the woman fell. Troia started to move forward, but Henry put a hand around her arm.

She looked at him, betrayal in her eyes, but there was sympathy in his. "You must not; too many will die…is that what you want?"

Gritting her teeth, she turned her attention back to the terrorist. "Tell me what you want."

One of the benefits of being a Justice League member was that you had access to some very handy technology. Ray Palmer and John Henry Irons, former League members the Atom and Steel, loved to tinker away at various items and make them more useful. As a way of somehow impressing Wonder Woman (which many League members except Batman tried to do), they had built a cell phone into her earrings. She normally did not wear them but had on this trip just in case her regular phone somehow got damaged.

After the battle with the armored woman, she had discovered that indeed disaster had struck her small phone. The earrings were voice activated and she had been using them for the last hour to try and contact Stephen. Next to her in the back of the police car (the local police had been kind enough to offer her a ride to the estate), Red Star read a well-worn paperback novel.

"Hallo, hier spricht Agent Hinkle (_Hello, this is Agent Hinkle_)," a voice on the other end said.

"Guten Nachmittag, Agent Hinkle; hier spricht Wunder Frau, die Person der Sie aus dieser Angelegenheit helfen sollten (G_ood afternoon, Agent Hinkle; this is Wonder Woman, the person you are supposed to be helping out on this case_)," she said in a sarcastic voice.

"My apologies, Princess, but I have been doing some research into Baron Blitzkrieg," Stephen said.

She quickly gave him a brief explanation of her conversation with Mrs. Schultz and the subsequent battle afterwards. He remained very quiet until she finished. "Where are you?" he asked.

"About an hour outside the estate, so long as there is no traffic on the backroads," she said, looking out the window. He stated he was not too far behind them. "Did you find out anything interesting about Blitzkrieg?" she asked.

There was a brief wash of static over the phone and then Stephen answered. "I remembered something from my initial training for this position. The European Union has several dossiers on our super-criminals going back to the 1930's. The Baron is required reading for my agency," he joked.

"I can understand why, he was a powerful man," Wonder Woman admitted and it was not in any way a stretch of the truth. Baron Blitzkrieg had faced off against her own mother and had held his own, not to mention the many times he had battled the entire All-Star Squadron. He had been the precursor of the modern super-villain.

"Indeed he was, but he was also well connected in that his family was very involved in the Third Reich. When I started to put things together and did a little back research, I discovered something concerning our Dr. Melch…"

The connection then squealed and cut out and Wonder Woman was left listening to nothing but static. She tried dialing his number again, but it would not connect. "Strange," she said, but then she realized that while she was using advanced telecommunications equipment, Stephen was not.

"What is it?" Red Star asked, setting his novel down. His bare chest glistened with sweat and Wonder Woman determined he was using his own internal powers to burn up the cookies he had engulfed. No wonder he stayed so fit.

"Agent Hinkle was about to reveal a secret but we got cut off," she said with a sigh.

"Most likely he was going to tell you the same thing that Mrs. Shultz told us. The Baron was somehow connected to the Atoman Project or to Dr. Melch and that he is most likely the person doing the murders." Red Star was about to return to his reading when Wonder Woman put a hand on his wrist. She asked him to repeat what he had said.

He smiled and put the book once again in his lap. "I would have thought it was obvious by now. My government has suspected for some time that Blitzkrieg was alive, or that someone was pretending to be him. We believe that the Automan Project was an attempt to duplicate the science that had originally created the Baron."

Wonder Woman nodded and considered the possibilities. It would explain why an aristocrat like the Baron would have been against it. As the only person with his abilities, he had been invaluable to the Reich. If there were more of him, then he would have been disposable and worthless.

"Then why was the Seraph murdered?" she asked.

Red Star shrugged. "Again, this is only conjecture, I am not my friend Nightwing, but it is possible that all attempts to recreate the process have failed because some of the original notes were missing. Maybe agents of the enemy," he said, without actually naming a foe, "cornered him and took what he had for themselves…"

"Except we found his notes for the most part," Wonder Woman pointed out. "I would say if he was targeted for assassination, then all of his papers would have been confiscated. And that would not explain his murder. A metahuman had to do it…"

"That is where the idea that the Baron is still alive…"

Wonder Woman shook her head. By all accounts, Baron Blitzkrieg would be far too old to be a threat. There was nothing to indicate he was immortal or long-lived, merely powerful. Plus, there was his final battle with Wonder Woman's mother where his armor had been shredded and he had been beaten to within an inch of his life. "I find that hard to believe, though I will agree that there is more to the Baron's connection then he simply disagreed with the project."

"It was only a theory," Red Star offered.

"Which is more than what we have now," she said as she rubbed her temple. How did Batman do it, she wondered? How was he able to put all of the puzzle pieces together to form a clear picture?

They had a dead super-hero and diplomat, one from Israel and one from Russia, but no direct connection between them. Then they discovered that one of the dead men had been researching a Jewish scientist that had collaborated with the Nazis to create something that the Japanese could not. An idea popped into her head and she closed her eyes.

Wonder Woman had limited telepathic ability, but it was strong enough to get the attention of the Martian Manhunter in the JLA Watchtower. _John, I need some help_ she sent out.

The low, calm voice of the alien filled her mind. _Of course, Diana, how may I be of service?_

Quickly she projected into his mind a picture show of what had transpired so far on the case. At one time, the Martian Manhunter had assumed a human guise as a police detective and so he was intrigued by the information and mystery surrounding the investigation. _Can we somehow find out what projects the Japanese government was working on in the late 1920's to early 1940's? Anything to do with metahumans?_

There was a pause. _That may be very difficult as the Japanese government does not like to discuss the events of the war, even with us._

Wonder Woman considered that and realized that she was beating a dead horse, as Green Arrow would say. _How about Kal?_ She knew that Superman was well-loved throughout the world, including Japan.

The Manhunter seemed to smile telepathically. _A very good suggestion, Diana. I will contact him immediately. You are fortunate that Clark Kent and Lois Lane are in Singapore on assignment._

Wonder Woman nodded and then turned to Red Star, explaining what had transpired. He approved of the measure. "If there is anyone who can get the information, it will be Superman. Many times even my own government has been willing to open up to him when they were leery of everyone else."

She turned back to look out the window and noted that they had picked up speed. She was thankful for that and her thoughts again drifted to the seemingly impossible task of trying to once again sort out the mystery. The idea that Blitzkrieg was still alive was ludicrous, but it was also credible. The murders matched his method of operation and she knew that well enough. Her mother had spoken often about her old foe, so much that Wonder Woman believed she was as familiar with the man as anyone else.

There were other explanations, such as a clone or simply a new version of an old idea. There were still Nazis in the world, people who believed that a minute genetic difference between them and everyone else somehow made them superior.

She tried calling Stephen once more. "Princess?" he answered. "Thank goodness," Stephen said on the other end. "I was trying to tell you that Dr. Melch was Blitzkrieg's uncle. I looked it up. Is that not amazing?"

"Then perhaps it is him," Wonder Woman whispered. Suddenly pieces began to fall into place and she wondered if this was what it was like when the Batman came to a conclusion. The clarity was almost overwhelming. "The Baron was against the program not because he was afraid of being replaced, but because the candidate for the test was his cousin, his family."

Red Star shook his head. "It would go deeper than that," he said, not bothering to excuse himself for interrupting her conversation. "At the time of the experiment, according to what we have been able to discover, the Reich was falling apart. Perhaps he did not want his cousin to throw his life away for a lost cause."

"Tell your Russian friend he is very insightful because that is what I came to the conclusion of as well," Stephen said. "Do me a favor, Princess," he started. "Don't go to the estate yet. I'll give you an address to meet me at and we will go together."

"Alright," she agreed, wondering why he would want that. "Is there something I should know about?"

"No," he said and then there was a pause. "I just wanted to go in with you. Besides if I am with you will have an easier time with the guards."

"I'm sure there will be no problem; we are expected," she countered.

"Just meet me at this address," he said sternly, rattling it off. Wonder Woman repeated it to their driver who nodded and then Stephen hung up.


	15. Chapter 14

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 14

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

Baron Blitzkrieg faced the monitor of the portable communications device. It was set-up in the darkest corner of the estate in a room that had once belonged to a servant…or was it three? The Baron could not remember for it had been so long ago and people like that never meant much to him to begin with. He was patient as he waited for the connection to be made and occupied his thoughts with the current situation.

His benefactor's hired mercenaries had been unable to defeat Wonder Woman, but that did not surprise the Baron. She was of Amazon stock, the same as her mother, just as was Troia. They were a superior being, a true race of super women and in that aspect he gave them grudging respect. They were what the Reich had wanted to aspire to, though in more masculine terms.

But the Reich was long gone and those dreams would have to wait for another day. His master's people busied themselves with the business at hand, segregating the women from the men (it kept the men nervous, especially when moans of pain and ecstasy could be hear coming from other parts of the estate!) and setting up perimeter guards. The Baron knew, from the detailed files he had been given of the estate and its security, that the guard force was not due to be relieved for two days, more than enough time to take care of his needs.

The screen flickered to life and the smooth and austere features of Ra's Al Ghul took form. "Greetings my friend," the villain said in perfect English. "I trust you are happy with the way things are proceeding?"

The Baron bowed his head. "As always I am in your debt," he said with true humility. Unlike Hitler, Al Ghul truly gave to his loyal followers. Hitler had only taken until there was nothing left and then he demanded the souls of the German people. He had taken a proud and robust nation and reduced it to nothing more than rubble and shattered dreams. He had allowed weak-minded fools to seduce him into making mistake after mistake until it did not matter. The fire still burned in the Baron's bosom even after so many decades.

The betrayal of the German people by their beloved leader was almost too much to bear. He had truly believed and that had been his downfall. "The estate is secured; it is fortunate that our Russian friend was so knowledgable in my family's history. So obvious was this clue that it would have passed my scrutiny for certain."

Ra's nodded and sipped from a glass of wine. "I have learned, especially in my dealings with the Detective, that sometimes hiding the truth in plain sight is much better than the greatest lie."

"I would have thought the estate destroyed by now," the Baron continued, feeling the need to explain how it was that he had not come up with the answer. "The Seraph had almost put the answers together, but his notes were incomplete. He knew of the estate, but he never realized that my uncle brought my cousin here to rest."

"And the Russian diplomat provided the final piece to the puzzle?" Ra's asked, but with a tone that indicated he already knew the answer.

"Yes," the Baron admitted. "I honestly believed my uncle had been killed after the war and that the Allies had found my cousin and used him for some damned experiments…" The Baron balled his hands into fists and shook with rage at the thought.

The man on the screen betrayed no emotion. "We are both fortunate that your uncle was resourceful enough to his son prior to the Allied invasion. We have before us an opportunity unlike any other in the modern age." He paused to take another drink. His palette wetted, the master criminal continued. "Do you know exactly what it was the Japanese discovered in that meteorite that crashed in the 1920's?"

The Baron considered the question and then shook his head. Science had never been his best subject in his schooling. In fact, he really could not say how it was that his own powers worked, only that they did. When Ra's saw the puzzled look on his face, he gave a gentle chuckle. "I did not expect you to; at the time the Japanese did not know, despite the best efforts of the Emperor's scientists. That was one reason why they turned to your nation for help."

"We were making great advances in human development," the Baron said with a nod. "But, to be honest, the Japanese were no fools, even though they were…are an inferior race…"

Ra's shook his head. "My dear Baron, these notions you have of racial purity have to go away. How many times have I told you that it has nothing to do with genetics, only will. Those with the will shall survive and dominate those without."

The Baron accepted the admonishment without comment. Too many times he had suffered embarrassment as his new master offered him lessons on the true meaning of life. He still struggled to come to grips with the new philosophy that he knew was right. The bias he had felt in the past no longer mattered; it was based on simplistic beliefvs of racial purity. Ra's al Ghul had taught him that the hierarchy of life was not based upon genetic code, but on willpower. "I ask that you only tell me the secret, so that I will begin to understand."

"Kryptonite, my dear Baron…the one element that is absolutely deadly, no matter what, to Superman. Your cousin was exposed to that element and as such, he is a living nuclear furnace that is fueled not my Uranium, but by Kryptonite." Ra's smiled and the Baron could not help but mimick the expression. To think that some several decades in the past that the key to the destruction of the greatest threat to their movement had been created was unimaginable. "You understand now why I am so interested in your plight."

"With my cousin's help, we would be able to strike a killer blow to the world of super-heroes."

"Indeed," Ra's added with a final drink from his glass. "It would decimate the Justice League of America and after them, the rest of the costumed adventurers. Superman died once already and returned from the grave. If he were to be utterly defeated, his body ravaged by the lethal radiation borne on his hoeworld…"

"They would know he would not be coming back. Fear would creep slowly up their spines to eat away at their brains and their courage. He is the rallying point for this new breed of heroes," the Baron added, suddenly understanding. The fact that Ra's al Ghul had not particular interest in him at the moment meant nothing. He understood the necessity of a strategic alliance and he had proven his loyalty time and time again. Unlike Hitler, his new benefactor would not toss him away like yesterday's rubbish so quickly. "I had no idea," he offered.

"The benefits of modern technology and well-placed spies. Wonder Woman apparently asked Superman to query the Japanese about the mineral samples," Ra's said, indicating that he had new information. "Superman will be on his way soon to meet up the Amazon whore."

The Baron blanched at the comment. "I do not see the Amazons in such a light. They are warriors who adhere to a code that is ancient and true."

"You warrior types always amuse me, with your sense of honor. " Ra's again chuckled but then his mood turned deadly serious. "I have provided you with the opportunity to rescue your cousin, do not fail me," he warned.

"Failure is not an option," the Baron told him just before the screen went blank.

The driver had brought them to the location that Stephen had specified and had gotten out to trot down to a small restaurant. Red Star had wanted to follow, complaining that he very rarely got to eat so well. Wonder Woman asked the driver to pick up the Russian hero a T-shirt as well as a sandwich.

A half hour later Stephen pulled up in a non-descript government car and parked next to them. As he got out, Wonder Woman folded her arms over her chest and put a hard look on her face. Her new friend was acting very strange and she wanted some answers. "All right, what is this all about?" she asked as the agent approached.

Stephen nodded to the shirtless Red Star, but said nothing. He knew about the battle that they had been involved in earlier and he did not want to go over it again. "I apologize for my behavior, but there was a reason," he offered.

"It's getting late in the day and the two of us have not slept in almost 24 hours," she said, not bothering to add that she really did not need to sleep as often as a normal person. She wasn't sure about Red Star but she suspected that his own stellar powers kept him constantly refreshed. "We are hours late in meeting Troia and Henry at the estate," she told him.

Stephen nodded. "There is a problem," he confessed. "I believe our communications were being tapped. In fact, I strongly suspect that there is a traitor within my own organization. I tried to initiate a scrambling program during our telephone conversation but it did not work, which is why I ended up hanging up."

"Why is it that you think this?" Red Star asked.

"As I stated before, I left to research Baron Blitzkrieg. We have detailed records dating back from the 1950's on possible sightings of him. We know, for example, that a man matching his disfigured condition was seen in South America for many years. He had surgery to improve his features, but as he aged it only made matters worse."

Stephen leaned against their car and then looked up into the sky, as if looking for something. "Blitzkrieg was then sighted by Israeli intelligence agents in France in the 1970's. He was in the company of a man named Akbar Sallam, an industrialist who owned several arms manufacturing facilities."

Wonder Woman looked at Red Star, remembering his comment that the Russians believed that Blitzkrieg had survived the war. Stephen continued. "Sallam was an alias for a man who has been on several nations' intelligence watchlists for years. His real name is Ra's Al Ghul…the Head of the Demon."

A door opened in Wonder Woman's mind. "Merciful Minerva, it all makes sense!"

"_Da_, it appears that my government was on the right track," Red Star proclaimed with some pride.

"I also found a file on this Atoman project," Stephen announced. "It was buried in our archives and it was what took me so long to get back to you. It was barely a single paragraph, but it essentially indicated that a young SS officer named Heinrich Melch was selected for the experiment."

"The assistant's son and the Baron's cousin," Wonder Woman concluded.

"Yes," Stephen replied. "My theory is that the Baron somehow wanted to either convince his cousin not to participate in the experiment, sparing him the life that the Baron led, or else wanted to get him to run away with him."

"Run away?" Red Star asked. "To where?"

Stephen shrugged. "It was not a large state secret that Baron Blitzkrieg was not happy with Hitler's handling of the war in the later years. In fact, he was put on a death list that was supposed to have been used by Himmler per Hitler's instructions. Himmler delayed action because he saw a potential ally in the Baron."

"So why was the Seraph murdered?" Wonder Woman asked.

"I think I can answer that," a familiar voice said from above. All three looked up to see Superman floating down. A smile crept across Wonder Woman's face as her friend landed next to them, a file folder in his hand. Stephen immediately held out his hand.

Superman took it and gave him a hearty handshake as the agent introduced himself. Red Star also offered his own greeting. Then Superman's demeanor turned serious. "J'onn contacted me about asking for some information from the Japanese government. They were reluctant because of the nature of the information. Experiments in radioactivity on living things would not set well with the current Japanese society, given the horrors of the atomic bombing of their nation."

Everyone nodded their agreement. "But, they did pass on to me what information they had. Most of the records, oddly enough, were destroyed when the main lab in Nagasaki was destroyed. The Seraph had stumbled upon a research project, this Atoman Project, that had never been fully revealed. It would have been the subject of an entire book by itself, considering the implications. The Japanese tried to create a, pardon the pun, super man for themselves, but they lacked the expertise to make it happen. They turned the research over to the Germans who did."

"A nuclear man?" Red Star asked, astounded. "Such a person could have turned the tide of the war. Imagine if the Axis powers had someone like Captain Atom or Firestorm at the head of their army?"

"And the Seraph discovered what?" Wonder Woman asked. "None of this is information worth dying over." Then she remembered her brief phone conversation with Troia the day before. "There is something radioactive buried on the Melch estate," she whispered.

"If the Baron survived all of these years…"

"With Ra's Al Ghul's help," Red Star added.

Superman's eyes went wide. "Al Ghul?"

"His cousin is still alive," Stephen said, snapping his fingers. "That is what this is all about! The Seraph found the notes and it directed him to the Russian diplomat, who knew about the Melch estate!"

Wonder Woman looked at Superman. "My sister and Henry are in trouble! Al Ghul has behind this all along, using agents and possibly even Baron Blitzkrieg himself to shadow us, keep us preoccupied. We have to get to the estate!"

"You two fly there," Stephen offered. "I will take Red Star in my car!"

"My lunch…"

Wonder Woman did not reply but instead leapt into the air, Superman following close behind.


	16. Chapter 15

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 15

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

Even the most hardened of the terrorists could not help but be impressed at the display of stamina and strength of Troia as she used the shovel from a small bulldozer to clear away the soil. One scientist, conscripted into the psuedo army of terrorists, monitored the radiation levels in the area. As more dirt was tossed aside, the scientist shook his head. "These readings don't make sense," he said, slapping his detector.

Troia took a moment to wipe the sweat from her face with her arm before resuming her digging. They had taken Henry away, realizing that she had some sort of emotional attachment to him. He had protested and had even attempted to fight, but the terrorists were simply too numerous for him. He was now locked away with many of the other researchers.

Off to the side the bodies of the military guards and murdered scientists were laid out, a warning sign to her that there was a heavy price to pay for any insubordination. She scanned the rooftops as she could and saw no way to exploit any weaknesses in the defenses the terrorists had erected. Their leader was smart, very smart she determined. Super-villain kind of smart she was sure.

Most of the black-garbed terrorists were hired thugs, that much was obvious. They were well trained and deadly, but thugs nonetheless. Their leader was different and she knew he was the real danger. The others were tools, he was the craftsman. And he was deadly familiar. She was tearing herself apart mentally trying to remember where she had seen him before, but it was not doing any good. She had reviewed so many files on criminals worldwide in her years of service as a super-hero.

It did not help matters any that she was worried about Henry. Their lovemaking had strengthened the emotional bond between them. Never had a man so fulfilled her! He had known what to do and when and after so many years of failed relationships and broken hearts, she really felt as if she were on the verge of starting something special. It wasn't like she wanted to sleep around, but she had need to feel like a loved woman once again.

Now the mood was ruined and she found herself in the middle of situation that was straight out of a bad comic book, or worse she thought, awful internet fan fiction. Too many times she had found herself the subject of amateurish writings that either made her into a bisexual nymphomaniacal tart or the ultimate mother hen, holding the hands of the male members of the Teen Titans and telling them everything was going to be fine.

"Well, everything isn't fine," she murmured as her shovel struck solid concrete. The terrorists heard the sound of metal against rock and ordered her to move away. She jumped out of the hole and landed on the ground, putting her hands on her hips. The scientist with the radiation meter stepped forward and began shaking his head.

"These readings are all wrong," he said as he adjusted the digital display. Troia noted that he was using a LexCorp model detector, a top-of-the-line model that the Titans also used. He looked over at a female terrorist who asked him in accented English what the problem was. "With all of the dirt removed I'm getting a reading I shouldn't be," he explained. "That bunker has Kryptonite in it!" he said, pointing down at the exposed concrete.

The terrorist shrugged and shoved the scientist towards one of her compatriots who escorted him away. Troia snorted. "So that is what this is about? Kryptonite? Have you ever considered all of Superman's friends?"

"Shut up, whore," the woman said and Troia picked out her accent as being Arabic. In fact, many of the members of the group were of Middle Eastern descent, but there was none of the expected religious fervor that was normally associated with the stereotypical extremist. Troia instead saw a well-organized group of secular criminals.

That's when it clicked in her head where she had seen their leader before. He was a well-known political terrorist, a man who abdicated fascism and wanted to see religious states such as Israel and Saudi Arabia destroyed. The last time he had been seen was as a contract agent for Ra's Al Ghul in a failed attempt to assassinate the Pope when he was visiting Gotham City a year before. Nightwing, her teammate and close friend, had joined with the Batman in pursuing the terrorist.

It had been one of their few failures by not capturing him.

And it made a certain amount of sense that Al Ghul would be the puppet master in this marionette play. The seemingly immortal criminal mastermind had tried to destroy the Justice League once before and had only barely missed his target. His mechanisms had been enough to cause the League to briefly throw the Batman off of the team for a while, a major coup if there ever was one.

She knew there was no way she could let them get away with the Kryptonite, but Superman would never forgive her if she allowed innocents to get killed in an attempt to prevent harm from coming to him. She also did not want to put Henry in any particular danger either.

The leader, a man she now knew was known as the Anarchist, an ironic title considering the order by which he ran his organization, came walking out of one of the estate buildings and came to stand at the edge of the hole. "Get it open immediately," he snapped and instead of pushing Troia back into service, several of the terrorists hopped into the hole and began to dig with military entrenching tools.

The Anarchist turned to Troia. "You saved us hours of work, which I am thankful for. If you do not interfere with the rest of this operation, you have my word that nobody will be harmed." He then chuckled. "Including your lover."

Troia grit her teeth and clenched her hand into a fist. It was bad enough that she had allowed herself to be made into a pack mule for a bunch of killers, but the fact that her sexual encounters were now the subject of casual conversation throughout the captured estate was more than enough to get her anger rising. "When can I see him?" she asked.

The terrorist leader shrugged. "When I have the time to give the order to bring him to you, perhaps. Of course, if you have an itch that needs scratched…" he let the sentence fade away; the intent was clear enough.

Troia bit her bottom lip to keep from screaming. Why was it so hard for people to believe that super-heroes had needs just like them? "That will be great," she hissed before sitting down on the ground. Her costume smelled like sweat and dirt and she had a greasy sheen to her body. She wanted this all to be over with and she suddenly realized her own arrogance.

Too many times the life of being a hero became mundane and it was easy to become complacent. She actually was expecting to quickly solve the problem and save the day and then get back to her so-called life. Her gaze wandered over to the rows of dead bodies and it suddenly hit home that this was not a normal caper.

This was deadly serious and she had better get back in the right mindset or more people were going to die.

She quickly considered her options. She knew that Diana, Steven and Red Star were on their way, but then she wondered why they had not arrived already. Briefly she considered the possibility that Diana and Steven had hooked up and were right now enjoying champagne and strawberries in a warm bed.

No, not her sister she decided immediately. Wonder Woman could have any man she wanted at any time; she did not need to sacrifice duty for romantic engagements. Unlike Troia, she did not suffer from picking the wrong man at the wrong time so she did not need to take side trips.

They might be twins, but they were nowhere near alike. That bothered her; how far had she moved away from her Amazon heritage in the years since Dark Angel's spell had put her in the life of Donna Troy? She should have been raised right alongside Princess Diana, should have been in the running to become Wonder Woman. But she wasn't really an Amazon, was she? Did she have the warrior's spirit inside of her?

She had often sat and contemplated that very notion. She and Princess Diana were twins, exact in every detail except in personality. They had the same long legs, same raven-colored tresses, the same ever-buoyant breasts, yet Wonder Woman and not the former Wonder Girl was the object of attraction to millions of men around the world. If their difference was in attitude and mannerisms only, then what was it about the Amazonian Princess that made her so different?

If Wonder Woman were here, she was sure, in the same predicament, then the problem would have already been solved. She had the warrior's pride, the ability to switch from pacifist to fighter in an instant, while Troia wasted time contemplating what she should do. It was what had made her the unofficial den mother of the Titans because whenever anyone had a problem, they came to her because they thought she was a great thinker.

Thinking was not going to save the day, she knew that, and bellyaching about having to live in the shadow of her sister was not doing any good either. She understood she had issues; one second she was trying to be as different from her sister as she could, the next she was whining why they were not more alike. Now was not the time for psychotherapy.

She stood up and brushed her costume off. "How did you know about this?" she asked, trying to gain information.

The Anarchist looked over and his female companion whispered into his ear. He held up a hand to cut her off. "I didn't; I only follow orders," he said. "But it is safe to assume that my employer followed the same route that you and your lover did. The agent of the Jewish state uncovered the needed key that all of needed."

"I still don't understand why a Nazi scientist needed Kryptonite or how he even got it," she said, taking a single step closer.

The terrorist leader saw the movement and waved her over. It bothered her that he did not fear her or her powers. The simple fact was he had more power over her then she could ever have over him. "They received it from the Japanese, as I understand it, who in turn got it from a meteorite. Other than that, I am ignorant of such things, but my employer will certainly know how to use it to our advantage."

"Killing Superman," she accused.

He giggled. "The Seraph was only the first of your kind that will be brought down. The Jew represented the Zionist state, a government that preaches tolerance but then uses religion as an excuse to subjugate others."

"And you of course consider subjugation to be a bad thing," she remarked as she watched the men in the hole dig. They had uncovered was had to be a door.

"Not at all; I just think that using something like God, Allah or Buddha is ignorant. The strong must rule the weak," he said his accent becoming heavy as he stepped onto his soapbox. "Those who hide their motivations behind the blanket of religion are cowards and therefore weak. Those like me who stand up and take the lead based upon their superiority are only defining their greatness. Superman is a messianic figure, coming down from the clouds and spreading his message of peace. How can there be peace when the nobility of Homo sapiens are forced to live in a world where their more primate-like brethren are granted equal status?"

For a moment, she was reminded of Henry, but she understood that to her more liberal thinking, all conservative rhetoric sounded the same. "And what then? What happened to your perfect world after you take power? How long before someone more superior comes along?"

"You misunderstand, Troia," he said with an evil glare, "I live only to serve in my capacity. The truly superior understand that some are tacticians and some are soldiers. I am a soldier in the service of the greatest tactician of all. Through him a new world order will truly come about."

"You think Kryptonite is going to do that? Superman is a great man, but he is not the root of the super-hero community," she offered as more dirt was removed away from the doorway.

A surprised look came over his face. "I am shocked; especially considering that you Amazons are supposed to be one of the more superior races…Superman is the anchor. He keeps all of you on the straight and narrow, prevents you from giving in to your baser desires. If he wasn't around then all of your would be like the Batman or worse, Guy Gardner."

"Things would never get that bad," she answered and decided that she was getting nowhere with her current line of questioning. At least she had something to go on once this was over. If the Japanese had Kryptonite they could give away in the 1940's, then maybe they had some more somewhere else.

A few minutes later, a door was revealed in the pit and the workmen began to chatter excitedly in Arabic. The Anarchist said something to them and they calmed down. He was about to say something to Troia when someone flung open a window and yelled something so quickly that Troia could not tell what language it was in.

"It looks like our time schedule just got accelerated," the Anarchist said before issuing orders to his people. "Oh, and bring out her lover, he will prove most useful," he said.

A few minutes later, two guards pushed a shirtless Henry out into the courtyard. He looked at her and then the hole, a strange expression on his face. "Do not worry about the radiation," the Anarchist said out loud. "It is within safe limits now." He did not bother to explain that most of the radiation had been absorbed into the soil that Troia had removed over the decades and was now several meters away.

Henry was brought before the Anarchist and the terrorist sighed. "It seems that we have two fast approaching flying figures. I can only assume one of them is your sister," he said to Troia. "You will stop her from coming here along with her companion or," he said drawing his pistol and putting it to Henry's head, "I will kill your lover."


	17. Chapter 16

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 16

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

Later Wonder Woman would reflect on what surprised her the most: the sight of her sister flying towards her and Superman or the look on her face. The Amazon recognized it as the determined stare of a warrior on a mission and from her speed and posture, she understood that nothing good was going to come of it.

The two Justice League members slowed to a hover and waited as the Titan approached. Only a few scant meters from them did Troia finally reduce speed and match their hover. "You guys have to turn around," she said and quickly explained about the terrorists.

Superman listened but shook his head. "We can't leave those people to the not-so-tender mercies of these terrorists," he said. Then he turned away and his gaze changed. Wonder Woman knew he was using his telescopic vision powers to look in on the hostages. "They have already killed innocent soldiers," he told her.

Troia sighed. "I know, but you don't understand. They have a supply of Kryptonite there," she said, reminding them of the true danger. "They can incapacitate you pretty quickly if they need to."

Superman was silent and Wonder Woman moved closer to her sister. "Steven and Red Star are on their way by car. I can contact him and get the German army here in short order. The terrorists have no choice but to surrender."

Troia could not believe her sister's naïve attitude. "Diana, these are terrorists working for Ra's Al Ghul. They won't surrender. They would rather die and murder everyone there before they would ever accept defeat. For God's sake, this is the man who makes the Batman worry," she exclaimed.

Wonder Woman turned to Superman and waited for him to respond. The truth was they were as lost as Troia was. The situation they were in was difficult. "Do you have any ideas?" she finally asked the two of them.

Troia shook her head and sighed. "I'm trying, but I have to get them away from the civilians. They won't leave until they get the Kryptonite."

Superman said nothing for a few moments. "It doesn't matter; we need to save the innocents." It was the exact reaction that Troia had expected and feared. Superman made to start forward again and she moved to intercept him. "Please, don't make me do this," she pleaded, not wanting to reveal the threat to Henry. It embarrassed her, though she did not understand why.

Superman straightened up. "Young lady," he said, "you need to step aside." It was a simple warning, but she had to ignore it. She hated herself for what she had to do, but Henry's life was at stake at the moment. Superman was concerned about potential danger; she was worried about the real thing.

Though she doubted her ability to live up to her Amazon heritage, Troia was still a highly trained and powerful warrior, as powerful as Wonder Woman herself. She struck Superman hard, catching him completely off-guard. There was a thunderclap and a flash of lightning as her fist hit his jaw. He flew back, stunned and soared away for miles.

"Donna!" Wonder Woman cried out. "Why?"

Troia whirled, bringing her leg up and delivering a roundhouse kick to her sister's stomach. The air rushed out of Wonder Woman's lungs and she was ill prepared to defend against the left cross that nailed her hard in the jaw. Like her Kryptonian friend, Wonder Woman was sent sailing away like an unguided missile. But both the Man of Steel and the Amazing Amazon were battle-hardened veterans of many conflicts and they recovered quickly.

Superman poured on the speed and returned to float in front of a trembling Troia. "As someone once said, you are starting to make me angry. You won't like me when I'm angry," he told her as he folded his arms over his chest.

Wonder Woman returned and it was obvious she was angry as well. She held back from engaging her sister, waiting for an explanation. "I can't let you go past; they will kill Henry," she said.

"Who is Henry?" Superman asked.

"Henry Miller," Wonder Woman answered, not taking her eyes off of Troia. Her body language suggested she was fully prepared to counter any moves that the Titan would try to use against her. "He's a freelance journalist that is covering the investigation into the Seraph's murder."

"Odd choice of name," Superman commented.

"They have a gun to Henry's head right now; if I don't convince you to leave, they will kill him," Troia explained, her voice trembling. Superman laid a hand on Wonder Woman's shoulder and then softened his voice. "You care about this man very much don't you?"

"Maybe," Troia replied, not ready to discuss her love life several hundred feet in the air. Superman pursed his lips and then his gaze became far away again.

"Are you sure he said his name is Henry Miller?" Superman asked.

Wonder Woman turned to him. "What is it Clark?"

"First off, I just scanned the entire estate. Nobody has a gun to their head…"

"Oh my God! They killed him!" Troia cried, turning suddenly and racing back to the estate. Behind her flew Wonder Woman and Superman and not too far behind them Steven looked up to see the three figures streak away.

"This can't be good," Steven said to Red Star. The Russian nodded and asked if it was possible to go quicker. "Of course, this is a _German_ car!" he replied as he floored the gas pedal. The car accelerated quickly and Red Star laughed.

The Russian hero watched as Wonder Woman and Superman faded from his vision and then for no real good reason turned to see the area behind them. "Stop the car!" he ordered and Steven automatically complied. The expensive sports car skidded to a halt, throwing up clouds of burnt rubber smoke. Red Star burst out of the car and raised his arms into the air, releasing a double blast of the stellar energy that was stored inside his body.

The red-orange wave of light struck the second of the two armored figures that were flying at treetop level. White Orchid took the full brunt of the blast in the chest and layers of micro thin reinforced armor melted into slag immediately. She cried out in pain and lost her forward momentum. Her boot jets sent her spinning higher into the air.

Miss Mantis gritted her teeth. "Damn Russians are everywhere!" As much as she wanted to head for the estate and murder all of Ra's Al Ghul's operatives, she knew she had to eliminate Red Star first. She activated her newly mounted arm cannon and fired at him.

Depleted uranium-tipped 10-millimeter bullets tore into the ground in front of the Russian super-hero, throwing up little puffs of soil and giving clear indication of what was fast approaching him. Red Star jumped to the side and rolled out of the way as Miss Mantis flew over.

Steven, hunched down behind his car, drew his service weapon, a LexCorp personal laser and fired at her as she passed over. Her armor was much too durable to be affected by the small laser and she threw him a dirty look as she slowed and turned. "You are under arrest!" Steven cried out, holding out his identification.

A single bullet blasted it into confetti. Steven cursed and ran to the rear of his car and hunkered down. Miss Mantis prepared her own laser when Red Star caught her in the leg, sending her spinning in mid-air. Steven took advantage of the situation and started sprinting away from the car and its volatile fuel tank. He had gotten only ten meters away when his vehicle exploded.

"I have had it with all of you!" Miss Mantis cried out. She again lined her ballistic weapon up on Red Star, but was unable to activate it. A quick diagnostic told her the extent of the damage. Red Star was not holding back and only the advanced cooling systems of her armor had prevented her from being burned alive; he was literally reducing the armor to slag.

Steven got to a tree and caught his breath. He checked his weapon and then whirled around when he detected another presences. White Orchid stood in front of him, her chest nothing more than a smoking remnant of what it once was. He was mildly surprised to see that she was a normal woman on the inside of the suit; or at least she appeared to be from what skin he could see.

She reached out for him and he knew that if she grabbed him with her augmented limbs, he was a dead man. He fired his weapon by reflex, years of training kicking in. The blast tore through her bare skin and incinerated her heart. Steven stepped back as the body toppled and he stepped to the side to avoid being hit as it fell.

"No!" Miss Mantis shouted. "No! No! No!" She fired her main laser at Red Star, this time her aim being true. The big Russian screamed in pain and went down hard. Miss Mantis paid him no mind and instead dropped to the ground and began stomping towards Steven.

He put his weapon in front of him in a two-handed grip. "I am a German law enforcement officer!" he shouted out in English. By her appearance, he guessed that she was the woman that Princess Diana had told him about and he had no idea if she spoke German. "I am ordering you to power down your armor and surrender."

Miss Mantis stopped two meters away from Steven and looked down at the corpse of her teammate and friend. "This has gone too far," she said, a tear forming in her eye. She looked at Steven but found herself not hating him. He was only doing his job and the fact that he had been able to take one of them down attested to his abilities.

"Power down!" he cried out again.

She shook her head. "No. I will not surrender and you cannot hope to penetrate my defenses with that weapon. If you do not lower your weapon, you will die, officer." Steven refused. "Stubborn fool! Too much collateral damage has already been caused! Do you not see this is exactly what he wants?"

"Who? Al Ghul? Are you working for him?" Steven asked, his weapon never wavering.

Miss Mantis shrugged. "I did before, I no longer do. I was heading for the estate of Herr Melch to put a dent in his plans."

"What are his plans?"

"He wishes to uncover a secret German super weapon from the war, a man powered by Kryptonite, the Atoman. It has been the obsession of Baron Blitzkrieg for decades and it was only after Ra's learned of the Seraph's research that it became possible to track down where they had put him…the Atoman." Steven nodded and asked her to continue. Miss Mantis realized that her part in the drama was over, but there was still something she could do to pay Ra's Al Ghul back for his treatment of her.

The many months she had spent as his lover, indeed all of her girls had pleasured him at one time or another had allowed her to become privy to many secrets. For all of his cunning and careful planning, Ra's had a secret weakness and it was the bedroom. He could call her a cheap whore all day long, but at least she was smart enough to avoid compromising pillow talk.

"He has agents working all over the globe, finding select individuals to fill the ranks of his Death League, which is to be led by Baron Blitzkrieg," she offered.

Steven shook his head in disbelief. "Blitzkrieg truly is alive then?"

"Oh, yes, he's the field commander of the League, Ra's right hand man you might say. The plan is to develop a team capable of not just defeating the super-heroes, but eradicating them. Not through elaborate plans, but in a plain and simple fashion." She looked down at her fallen friend. "We were hoping to get on the inside, maybe even gain positions on the team, but the price is too high."

"Who killed the Seraph? Who killed the Russian diplomat?"

"My group was supposed to, but we were ordered instead to lay a trap for Wonder Woman. It was the Baron who killed them," she said. "He has been in Germany for weeks." His weapon lowered at the revelation.

"I have to go; I suggest you gather your friend and leave Europe immediately," he said as he holstered his weapon. Without glancing back he ran over to help Red Star up. The Russian was out cold and bleeding badly from a singed wound. Steven pulled out his cell phone and quickly punched in a number.

Troia landed in the courtyard just as a large coffin was being brought out of the hole by three terrorists. The Anarchist smiled at her return, but it soon faded as he saw who was fast approaching from behind her. "Where is Henry?" she demanded.

The Anarchist started to say something when Troia marched over and grabbed him by the neck. With as much effort as a normal human would use to pick up a glass of orange juice, she lifted him into the air. "Answer me!" she demanded.

Wonder Woman and Superman landed, the Man of Steel immediately firing his heat vision in rapid succession to melt terrorist weapons. The longer he used it, though, the more tired he became and he realized that he was being exposed to the Kryptonite that was in the soil. It was not too bad and he decided it would be best to not show weakness at the moment.

"Under the authority of the United Nations, I am placing all of you under arrest," Wonder Woman called out. "Your weapons are useless and you cannot hope to escape. And in case you are as stupid as you are evil, that is Superman behind me. I don't think I need to say anything else on the matter."

The terrorists did nothing for several seconds, but then eventually began to raise their hands into the air. "Donna?" Wonder Woman asked, turning to her sister.

Troia closed her grip on the Anarchist's throat. "Where is Henry Miller?"

"Put him down, Troia," Superman said calmly. "Henry Miller is still alive," he told her.

Troia sneered and then tossed the terrorist into the hole. He landed with a heavy thud and a small cloud of dust. She turned to Superman. "Where is he?"

Superman inhaled. "The Japanese had extensive information on the plans the Germans were fermenting at that time. One of them involved planting an agent in the United States under the alias Henry Miller. He would seek out work as a reporter, which would garner him access to such people as the All-Star Squadron. The Japanese navy was to deliver him via submarine to the west coast."

Troia did not understand and her expression showed it. She started to ask another question when Henry's voice called out from the other side of the courtyard. "Very good, Superman, only you could have wrestled that information out of those inferiors! Indeed, Henry Miller was to be the alias of Heinrich Melch, the Atoman. His duty would have been to destroy the All-Star Squadron and then later assassinate the president of the United States."

Troia spun around. "Henry?"

He stepped into their view, the sun shining down directly on the golden armor he wore. A large black iron cross adorned his chest and small swastika buttons held his scarlet cape on. His helmet was in the crook of his arm, revealing the proud aristocratic features that had so captured her attention. "But do not call me Henry…call me Herr Baron…Herr Baron Blitzkrieg!"


	18. Chapter 17

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 17

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: 

DISCLAIMER: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

The crashing of the emotional walls in Troia's mind was audible to Wonder Woman and she hoped it was only because she was telepathic. To think that someone could be hurt so badly so quickly made her shudder inside. Even Superman, who only had an inkling of what the relationship between Troia and Henry Miller was, could tell by Troia's body language that the sight of the unmasked Baron Blitzkrieg was a devastating blow.

"No," Troia whispered, tears rolling down her face. She felt so ignorant, so used and dirty. All she could think about was that she had slept with this man, that she had actually developed feelings for him. She suddenly decided he was under mind control. "We'll get you out of here, Henry," she said, hope in her voice.

The Baron threw his head back and laughed. "I assure you, Donna, I will be leaving here for there is nothing that can stop me."

In response, Superman began to move but he was suddenly forced back by ruby beams that shot from the Baron's eyes. The powerful blasts sent the Man of Steel flying back into a pile of dirt. "No!" Troia cried out, turning to Wonder Woman. "That dirt is permeated with Kryptonite!"

The eye blasts were enough to convince Troia that this truly was the real Baron Blitzkrieg. Wonder Woman hesitated a second, waiting to see if anyone was going to be foolish enough to try and get in her way, then leapt to Superman's aid. Troia moved towards the Baron. "I don't believe this! I don't want to believe this!"

Blitzkrieg spread his arms wide. "Why is it so hard to believe? Do you not see how much alike we are? Donna, you are not human…you are above that."

"Because I'm an Amazon that I'm somehow like a racist?"

"Do your people not segregate themselves from the rest of humanity? How often has your mother opened the gates of her blessed Thymerscia to allow in immigrants?" Blitzkrieg shook his head. "Racism is a dirty word; I prefer selectionism."

Tears of embarrassment threatened to fall from her eyes but she would not allow them, holding them back by sheer force of will. She would not show any more weakness. Her stomach was already churning as she kept thinking about their romantic encounters, the words he had said and the way she had felt in his arms. "The Amazons maintain vigilance because they were exploited…"

"Just as the people of Germany were after the Treaty of Versailles!" Blitzkrieg spat. "You were not there, Donna; you did not watch how the rest of the world slowly picked at the corpse of this great nation."

Troia turned to see Wonder Woman lifting Superman in her arms. "He's still alive, Baron," the Amazon princess called out. "You are very lucky."

"Please spare me your rhetoric, Diana," the Baron said and he seemed mildly amused that Wonder Woman was irked by his use of her given name. "I fought your mother to a standstill…"

"She kicked your ass you mean," Troia said, but Blitzkrieg was seemingly unaffected by the verbal barb.

"Donna, I know that you have feelings for me…"

"No! I had feelings for Henry Miller, not for you!"

"I am the same person, with the same ideals…I never hid my political leanings from you," he explained.

"You're a Nazi!"

"There is a difference between being a National Socialist and being one of Hitler's thugs. I grew disillusioned with Hitler after I started seeing proud young German men dying for a pointless cause." His eyes suddenly seemed to pale as his memories stirred his tongue into action. "The objectives of a new thousand year reich were lost, the principles where the superior ruled the inferior…"

"Or murdered them," Troia cut in. "I have read the books and watched the cable specials. You aided in the murder of six million Jews, millions more Soviets and not to mention thousands upon thousands of other innocents! You disgust me!"

"In order for a garden to flourish, the weeds must be cut out. The Jews and the communists were, and still are, part of the problem. They suck the life out of this world…"

Wonder Woman raced past Troia and struck Blitzkrieg with a hard left. There was a loud crash as Amazon fist met metal and the Nazi hero went flying back and through the wall of the estate. Wonder Woman did not hesitate, her warrior instincts kicking in, the heat of battle making a cold sheen of sweat cover her body.

With the grace of a ballet dancer, Wonder Woman jumped through the hole, leaving a stunned Troia in the midst of the unarmed terrorists. Her gut reaction was to follow her sister, but she knew that this was a job for Wonder Woman, not her sister. Every job was important and as much as Troia wanted to bury her heartfelt pain with her fists into Blitzkrieg's face, all of the people in black around her were dangerous as well and needed to be dealt with.

She wiped her moist nose on her sleeve, not much caring for decorum and marched over to the female terrorist that had been with the Anarchist before. The woman made to say something and Troia backhanded her, snapping her jaw and rendering her immobile.

Another terrorist cried out something in Arabic, just as Wonder Woman was flung through the roof of the estate and went flying into the front of the building. Several terrorists, yelling and screaming curses and threats, rushed Troia, catching her completely off guard. In seconds they managed to dog pile her, trying to crush her under their combined weight.

They struck her several times, but none of their blows had even a remote chance of harming her. Instead she used their efforts as an opportunity to rest and gain focus before applying her superior strength to throw them off of her. One by one she moved them away from her and none too gently. They struggled and fought, some even cursed her as she tossed them to the side and slowly got up. She could have done all of it more quickly, but a part of her wanted her to take her time.

By inflicting pain on them she hoped to extract the pain from her own destroyed heart. So she did not speed up or accelerate her pace, despite the desperate situation. Each terrorist paid a small price for being a member of the affair, of being an actor in the charade that made her a fool in front of her sister and perhaps the kindest man in the universe. Superman was in no immediate danger either because she knew from past experience that he was far from out and even in his weakened state, the terrorists could not hope to harm him.

She did not even cast a glance his way, but instead stood in a defensive stance, allowing the terrorists to come at her one at a time or in small groups. They tried to punch, but she blocked with strikes that snapped bones and bludgeoned tissue. Sometimes she would simply grab them by the shirt or jacket and throw them with enough force to shoot the air from their lungs as they plowed into walls and various objects.

Finally the last attacker fell and Troia looked at the carnage she had caused. Deep within her breast beat the heart of an Amazon warrior and for a moment she was able to forget her pain. Then Baron Blitzkrieg followed a cloud of debris as Wonder Woman sent him flying out of the estate. Troia's enhanced reflexes allowed her step out of the way as he went by.

Wonder Woman exited through the hole the Baron had made, wiping dust from her shoulders. She looked at the fallen forms and gave Troia an approving nod. This was a different side of her sister and it made her shiver slightly. Gone was the woman who preached peace and tolerance and was instead replaced by the warrior-borne that she truly was.

Someone once said that the greatest warriors worked hardest for peace and watching her sister stomp towards the fallen form of Baron Blitzkrieg she understood that rationale. Her sister had fought hard to make the world a safer place and yet she was a weapon of violence when needed.

Blitzkrieg rolled over and started to get up. "You are most definitely your mother's daughter," he laughed. Wonder Woman stopped as Troia held her back with a gentle hand on her forearm. "You have her strength and ferocity; I always admired her. In fact, I respected her greatly."

"None of that matters now, Henry…if that is your real name," Troia said, taking strength from her sister's presence. She had a need to know the truth.

"My real name is of no consequence," he offered, brushing his golden and dented armor off. "My feelings for you are real, just as your feelings for me are."

Wonder Woman moved forward. "I'm placing you under arrest, Henry," she said balling her hands into fists. There was real fury in her and Troia wondered if it was more to do with the fact that he had broken her sister's heart than because he was a killer. A part of her hoped it was true, but then another part dreaded it. Neither one of them were accustomed to their sibling relationship and there was always the chance that it could effect their judgment. It almost seemed as if Wonder Woman wanted Blitzkrieg to resist.

She got her wish.

Scarlet beams of energy lanced out from his eyes and the Amazing Amazon barely had time to react. The bracers on her arms allowed her to deflect the beams away, but it also kept her open to attack.

A fist struck her hard in the back with enough power the ground shook. Wonder Woman went flying forward to be stopped by Blitzkrieg's fist in her stomach. It was too much even for the Amazon and her lungs deflated as she sagged to the ground. Troia stepped back and turned to see a man in a costume of similar color to that of the Baron's.

"I bring you greetings, cousin," the man said in perfect English.

Troia looked to where the empty coffin was at and added it all together. The Atoman was alive and well, a Kryptonite-powered fascist ready to take on the world. "And I greet you as well, my dearest and oldest friend," the Baron said with obvious joy. His relative was demonstrating his superior knowledge of the world by speaking the language of their enemy.

The Atoman looked towards Troia, a green glow surrounding his body. "Who is this? She looks like Wonder Woman?"

Troia did not wait another second, realizing that if the Atoman got too close to the slowly recovering Superman he could kill him just by his presence. With a final glance at the crumpled form of her sister, she stepped forward and punched the Atoman with all of her might.

The blow was deafening and was strong enough to shatter a concrete pylon for a suspension bridge, yet it did not even tear the cloth fabric of the Atoman's mask. He returned the gesture with a palm strike to her breast bone and she heard a pop just before she went down.

"Do not kill her!" Blitzkrieg called out, moving forward quickly when he saw his cousin move in for the mortal strike. "She is special to me!"

The Atoman stopped short and turned his head towards the approaching Blitzkrieg. "I can tell by the state of my father's house that I have been asleep a long time, cousin…but do not tell me that we have joined forces with the Americans and their hated heroes?"

The Baron stopped next to his cousin. "There is so much I need to tell you, Heinrich, but not here and not now."

"The two of you might want to go ahead and surrender now," Superman said, standing on shaky legs. His costume was covered with the radioactive dirt and it was having some effect on him. A glance at the fallen Wonder Woman and Troia gave him the courage to resist the effects of the Kryptonite.

Still, no fool, Superman reached down and pressed a small button on his belt, activating his JLA signal device.

"You have signed your death warrant, Man of Steel," Blitzkrieg told him. The Atoman straightened up and stood next to his cousin. "You are no match for the both of us. In honor of your strength and prowess as a warrior, I offer you the chance to surrender and be executed quickly."

Superman shook his head. 'Nobody is going to die today, especially not me. The Justice League is on its way. There is no escape."

The Atoman surprised Superman by replying in perfect, unaccented English. "I do not know what this Justice League is…you Americans and your little clubs of costumed libertarians!"

Superman stepped forward and inhaled. Baron Blitzkrieg knew what was coming and he tried to shout a warning to his cousin when the blast of powerful air hit them. Superman's super breath was too much for the Baron and he tumbled back, cursing for not simply eliminating the Kryptonian when he had the chance. Again, his flair for theatrics was costing him, an old habit from his younger days.

The Atoman, however, was unaffected, standing rigid in the face of the gale. Instead, his greenish glow grew more emerald in color as he reached deep inside himself. He had only been able to practice with his abilities for a few hours before his body shut down, but to him it was like yesterday, not decades before.

Pushing his hands forward to focus his intent, he let loose with a blast of Kryptonite radiation that gave off both light and heat. The attack hit Superman in the chest and immediately sapped his strength. Heroically, the Man of Steel tried to remain standing even after his super-breath attack died away, but already weakened knees failed him and he slumped to the ground.

The Atoman stepped forward, increasing the amount of energy his body was throwing out, physically trying to push it through his target. He was a living nuclear reactor, powered by the radioactive Kryptonite in his body and the desire to destroy the American super-hero before him that dared to step on the hallowed ground of the Fatherland!

Superman fell back and screamed, choking at the end as searing pain burned through his lungs. Baron Blitzkrieg got up and moved back to stand next to his cousin, behind his golden helm a smile across his face. "Yes! Kill him! Kill Superman my cousin!"


	19. Chapter 18

The Evil Long Forgotten

Chapter 18

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

"That 'S' on your chest must stand for 'simpleton'" the Atoman laughed as another blast of Kryptonite energy sent the Man of Steel spinning. "I was trained for the sole purpose of defeating the Green Lantern, what hope do you, an unarmed buffoon, hope to have against me"

Superman clawed at the soil, feeling his life pour from his body with every second of exposure to the deadly radiation. He vainly tried to turn his head, to summon his heat vision and mount some sort of defense, but it would not happen. Instead his vision went white as he felt his limbs begin to numb. Wave after wave of power assaulted him, robbing him of his invulnerability and leaving him helpless as a child.

"Nooooooo" Troia screamed, landing next to the Atoman. Caught off guard, the armored villain stepped back and halted his attack on Superman. Troia reached out, cupped the Atoman's neck and shoved him back, forcing him to the ground.

"Donna" Blitzkrieg said, stepping forward. With surprising speed, especially considering her injuries, Troia released her hold on Atoman and flew at Blitzkrieg, landing a haymaker punch to his jaw. Under most circumstances a normal man would have been knocked cold, but his armor and enhanced strength saved him from such a fate. Regardless, he stumbled back, tried to catch himself and fell.

"You bastard! You damn bastard" she said, tears rolling down her face and splashing on the cool green grass. "Get up"

Atoman silently stood up, shaking off the surprise that had taken him down. "Woman! Turn and face your better" he ordered.

Slowly and deliberately Troia turned to face Atoman. "I suggest you shut up" she warned, holding up a finger. "It is not wise to piss off an Amazon."

"Still your vile tongue, whore" he spat in reply. "I do not take orders from a walking womb."

Troia started to march forward. "You are so going to hurt…" she began before screaming as two brilliant red rays of light burned into her back, setting her costume on fire.

"Forgive me, my love" Blitzkrieg pleaded as he stopped the attack.

Troia dropped to her knees and then fell forward onto her hands, the smell of burnt flesh in the air. The pain was so severe that she regurgitated her stomach contents and began to gag. "Stupid woman" the Atoman snickered, stepping forward with a fist glowing green. "She must die, cousin" he called to the Baron.

Blitzkrieg hesitated, looking from Troia to his cousin. Torn between his heart and his duty, his lover and his family, he froze. Atoman looked at him and sensed his weakness. "What did they do to you, cousin? What happened to the man I respected as a boy, the man who had dedicated himself to the Fatherland"

"Do not question my loyalty to Germany" Blitzkrieg snapped despite himself. "I fought the accursed Americans for Hitler and suffered greatly for it! Then I watched that madman tear down all that we had built because he was unfit to lead"

"How can you say that? How can you curse the name of our leader, of our _Fuehrer_? It was he that brought our nation up after the accursed betrayal at Versailles" Atoman kept his fist held above the neck of the fallen Troia. "Remember what it was like before him, back when the Jews controlled what little dignity our Fatherland had"

"You were not there to watch as your beloved Hitler, shaking and rattling like a frightened old man, sent boys…children…to face the Soviet forces. You were not there to watch as how the allies used our country as a proxy battlefield for their ideologies for decades" Blitzkrieg straightened as his fury fueled his pride. "I found a leader worth serving, a man who will create a world based upon the principles of selective breeding and racial purity."

"Who? Not your Arab friend, your Ra's al Ghul" Atoman began to laugh. "As if someone lower than a Jew could ever do anything besides beg in the street for pocket change! Listen to you! You talk of racial purity yet you serve a brown pig thing." His fist began to glow even more. "Obviously exposure to inferior women has had an adverse effect on you! I will free you, cousin, I will set you back on the course of National Socialism"

Before the Baron could do anything, the hand came down towards Troia's exposed neck. Just before impact, something whirled into and stuck in Atoman's hand. He screamed in rage more than pain and stepped back, pulling out a Batarang. His cousin whirled to see the Flash and Batman standing next to the fallen form of Superman. "Get him out of here; take him to the ocean and wash the Kryptonite off of him" Batman ordered the Scarlet Speedster.

"You do not belong here" the Baron said, well aware of al Ghul's warning to avoid confronting the Batman. The Caped Crusader was always an unknown quantity, his actions unpredictable.

Batman narrowed his eyes. "Surrender. Now."

Atoman threw down the Batarang, roared and launched himself towards the Batman. Blitzkrieg called out a warning, knowing full well from his briefings that no amount of super power was a guarantee of victory against Gotham City's Dark Knight. In fact, so mysterious, so unknown was the Batman that many countries were uncomfortable having him around. Germany was one such nation and despite the Justice League's United Nations clearances, they had specifically demanded that he remain outside their borders.

A foot before the Atoman was about to make contact with his fist, Batman put his foot out and caught the Nazi in the solar plexus. Even as the air rushed out of the Atoman's lungs, the Flash scooped up the moaning Superman. "Nothing better happen to Donna" he warned. He and Troia were former teammates and good friends.

"Just take care of your part" Batman told him as he applied a blow to the stooped over villain's neck. It was nowhere near as hard as what the Atoman wanted to deliver to Troia, but it was enough to send the stunned criminal to the ground hard. Batman then instinctively dropped down and performed a perfect side roll as Baron Blitzkrieg unleashed the fury of his eye beams.

"Insect" the Baron called to him, becoming more agitated as it became apparent that his plans were falling apart. Superman was now, no doubt, being cleansed of his contamination and would very soon begin to regain his strength, especially if the Flash were smart enough to whisk him to someplace sunny. Wonder Woman was down, but he understood that his personal feelings for Troia were compromising his mission. His loyalty to Ra's al Ghul was not swaying, but there was nothing in his orders that called for the murder of the Titan.

Now he was facing perhaps the greatest tactician that the side of "justice" had to offer; a man who had plans for dealing with any and all metahumans in existence.

Then there was his cousin, still full of the party rhetoric, still wanting to be the proud soldier for the cause. If they were not in the heat of battle, perhaps he would be able to shed some light on the fall of the Reich and the way the world worked in the 21st century. Unfortunately, he did not have that luxury.

Another Batarang whirled and struck him in the chest, putting a good-sized dent in it. The Baron moved closer to his whimpering cousin, setting up a barrage of covering fire with his eye beams. He could not keep it up for much longer; already he was getting a headache and the weakness in his legs was an indication he was taxing himself. Even with his restored youth he was not as powerful as all of the forces massed against him.

What was important now was to get his cousin to his master so that al Ghul himself could work on turning him to see the light. "Come, cousin" Blitzkrieg said as he watched Batman move quickly to Troia and then to Wonder Woman. "We must leave"

Atoman shook his head and spoke with great gasps. "No! I…can…still…fight…"

"The mission was to free you, not to fight" he told him as he helped him up. "Can you fly"

Atoman nodded and Blitzkrieg turned one final time to see Troia look straight at him. "I trusted you" she whispered.

A million replies flooded his mind; many of them filled with words of love that he knew would be wasted. Could someone fall in love so quickly? Did he really love her? How could he when she represented all that he stood against? Better to cut her off now, completely, before she rotted from emotional gangrene. "Because you were a gullible and lovesick child" he said, pushing his voice to indicate the hatred he did not truly feel. He saw the pain on her face increase a hundredfold and he was reminded of the day that he came to the realization that Adolf Hitler was a fool and that he had been a bigger fool for following him. "It is no wonder you cannot keep a man" he lied, adding injury to insult.

A third Batarang whirled into his peripheral view and sliced his cheek open in a large gash. He cried in pain and put a gauntleted hand to the wound. "I swear by all I hold dear one day I will crush you"

Wonder Woman began to stir at Batman's feet. "I get that response a lot" Batman replied coolly. "I believe you were told several times to surrender."

Atoman lifted into the air, but the Baron hesitated for a moment. Batman pulled out a line gun and fired, a rope-ejecting out to encircle and trap Blitzkrieg. The Nazi closed his eyes and called on the mutant power that energized him and increased his strength even as he lumped into the sky. Batman held onto the rope and a dazed Wonder Woman half crawled, half tripped after him to assist.

Troia, on her knees, looked up and watched as the ropes snapped, causing Batman to fall forward. Wonder Woman tumbled onto the Caped Crusader and in the distance, the unique sound of European style sirens began to fill the air.

For her part, Troia tried to get up, but her pain was too great, both physically and emotionally. Instead she only watched as the two figures flew out of sight and deeper into her soul.

Steven was kept busy dealing with both army and police personnel as they rounded up the remaining terrorists and set about freeing the captives. A JLA heavy transport under the control of the Flash and Martian Manhunter was loading up with wounded to be taken to a US Army hospital at the nearest base.

Superman still had not returned; the Flash explained that he said he would need a few hours on the beach soaking up solar radiation to counter the effects of the Kryptonite assault he had suffered. Red Star had used his own government contacts to get a division of the Rocket Red Brigade to come help with the clean up of the Kryptonite laced dirt, which would then be loaded onto a spacecraft and shot towards the sun. Any fears of the debris falling into the hands of even more terrorists were hushed by Red Star's personal vow to see all containers of the material loaded onto the rocket.

"You should really leave, Bruce" Wonder Woman whispered as they stood next to a broken wall. "Steven warned us that the German government does not want you here."

"All the more reason maybe why I should be" was the quick response.

She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and she saw his skin turn red for a slight moment. "Thank you for saving us; you put your life in grave danger."

"Is there another kind" he asked, not mentioning the show of affection. He looked over to where Troia was sitting as two paramedics applied bandages to her. "Is she going to be okay? I get the sense that there was a lot more going on here than a simple hero versus villain battle."

Wonder Woman said nothing for a moment. "Bruce, have you ever been in love"

"I try to avoid it when possible."

"I'm being serious."

He shrugged underneath the folds of his cape. "Our style of life does not leave much time for such things. Very few heroes can have a stable relationship; the cape is a jealous mistress."

"Clark does well and Lois is not even a metahuman" she pointed out.

"Lois Lane is not normal" he said without any further comment about her. "Look at Ray Palmer and his wife, Green Arrow and Black Canary, Nightwing and the next pretty thing in tights…"

"Is that a joke"

"I don't tell jokes when I'm in costume."

"But are we able to fall in love? Can people like us ever find that special someone" she asked, looking over at Steven. She knew that while he was intelligent, handsome and honest, you could not compare him to the other men in her life. She turned to look at Batman and suddenly saw him differently. There was an air of nobility about him that he tried to cover up, a strong sense of honor and loyalty so uncommon that she realized that she had stopped even looking for it in normal, mortal men.

"Yes, but it is difficult. Your sister has been through quite a bit, I gather; she will need you" he told her.

"The Batman is giving advice on turning to a trusted confidant? Mark it on the calendar."

"You shouldn't tell jokes in costume either" he said.

"Maybe I should take it off sometime…"

Batman's eyes narrowed and then he stated that it was actually time for him to go and that he needed the Flash to drop him off at the Batplane. Wonder Woman nodded, remembering how her sister had tried to teach her to lighten up, to have a little fun now and again.

Through this ordeal Wonder Woman had learned that she and Troia were different; their separate lives, though not of their own choosing, had made them into two distinct individuals. Yet there was a bond between them, something that could not be broken, but something she did not think could ever be fixed either.

But she was still going to try.

With quiet purpose, the Amazing Amazon walked over to her sister, who was now alone with her thoughts and her wounds. Troia looked up. "I screwed up big time" she whispered.

Without hesitation, Wonder Woman embraced her sister and pulled her close. Together they cried so that together they could heal.


	20. Epilogue

The Evil Long Forgotten

Epilogue

By Christopher W. Blaine

e-mail: All of the characters and situations contained in this story are ©2004 by DC Comics Inc. and are used without permission for non-profit, fan related entertainment purposes only. This original work of fiction is ©2004 by Christopher W. Blaine and may not be reproduced in any manner, in part or as a whole, without the express permission of the author.

It was a cold wind that blew across the face of the visitor, but he paid it no mind. He had been raised in a climate much harsher, both physically and intellectually. He was accustomed to many disturbing things and he knew that during his second lease on life, he would have to grow used to even more.

Yet staring at the monument erected in honor of Donna Troy, the Titan that had fallen in battle with a crazed Superman robot, he found himself unable to summon the faculties needed to adapt to the emotions he was feeling. Sadness, burning deep inside his soul, threatened to force tears out of his eyes, but it was his sheer will that kept them at bay. She would not have wanted him to cry; in fact, she probably would not have wanted him there to begin with.

How many months had it been since that fateful day in Germany, when he had revealed his true self to her, hoping against hope that she would see that he had only the best interests of the human race at heart? He was no longer a simple goose-stepper, a lackey for Hitler and his mad henchmen. Now he was a soldier in a quest to purify the world not solely based upon race, but by other factors as well. Why had she not seen that in the new order that Ra's al Ghul envisioned that the Amazons would have had a place? They would bare the children of tomorrow, good and strong children, right in moral sense and character.

They really could have been happy, or was that simply wishful thinking? She saw him only as a Nazi and decades of American war dramas had convinced every soul on Earth that anyone who bore the swastika on their arm was a baby killer.

But he had killed babies, hadn't he?

Was he really the monster that she had imagined when she gazed upon his golden armor? Was he so horrible to look at?

"I should kill you," Wonder Woman said from behind him.

To his credit, he did not flinch, but instead a small smile crept onto his face. He continued to stare at the grave marker of the Amazon's twin. "But you won't, will you? You have put aside your Amazonian heritage to become subservient to Superman and his League of Liberals."

"I don't think anyone has ever called Batman a liberal," she said.

He nodded, remembering the cut from the batarang that gave him his new scar. "Regardless, you will not kill me. You will do nothing except allow me to pay my respects."

Wonder Woman laid a hand on her lasso. "Didn't you think for a moment that the League would have cameras all over this place? Do you believe that we would not protect our dead, Henry?"

"You may call me Baron…I believe I have earned it, Princess," he said, still not bothering to turn around.

"You've earned a trip to Hades if I have anything to say about it. You do know that you can still be tried for war crimes in Israel," she reminded him and she was brought a small measure of satisfaction when she saw him straighten. "Their lawyers have argued that your murder of the Seraph was simply a continuation of the Holocaust. In fact, Mossad agents are scouring the globe looking for you."

"I know, I've killed eight of them in the last six months. And their families." He finally turned around. "With the exception of their children, which I am holding hostage to ensure that I walk away from here."

"I don't negotiate with terrorists…"

"Do not confuse me with some over-zealous religious crusaders that think flying airplanes into buildings is suddenly going to change the balance of power in the world. I am the scalpel that the surgeon wields to cut out the cancer that is plaguing mankind," the Baron told her, thrusting his hands into his pockets. She stood in her costume, a modest affair, yet she showed no signs of even feeling the cold. Like her deceased sister, she was a magnificent specimen of human development.

In Wonder Woman's face he saw Donna and it made him weak in the stomach. He poured hate into it like a cement. "My cousin is watching us at this very moment. If you attempt to apprehend me, he will strangle a seven year old girl in his custody."

"And what happens if I let you walk?" she asked.

"Then the child grows to become somebody, just not somebody who is free."

Wonder Woman shook her head. "That is not an option."

The Baron shook his own head and pulled out a hand to wave a finger at her. "No, it is an option, just not a pleasant one." He laughed. "You know I am not lying; no man can lie to you it is said."

Wonder Woman considered the threat and the consequences and decided that it was better to save the fight for another day. She had not informed the rest of the League that she had detected the presence of someone at Donna's grave and any move she made to use her JLA transmitter would result in the death of the child.

She briefly considered using a telepathic call to J'onn J'onzz, but decided to wait. Given Ra's al Ghul's vast resources and the Baron's tactical mind, she was sure that they had a metahuman somewhere nearby that could also pick up on that. "Why are you here?" she finally asked.

"I came to say good-bye. I do not think it would have been prudent for me to show up at the funeral, especially with so many of her past lovers present." He put his hand back in his pocket to shelter it from the cold. "She was a great woman."

"Yes, she was, and she was someone who was deeply hurt by what transpired between the two of you," the Amazon confessed. "You are truly a cold-hearted creature for having had hidden your identity so. You used us to find your cousin and you have unleashed a great danger onto this world."

"I did no more for my family than you would have done for yours. Tell me you would not have moved mountains to save your sister," he retorted, knowing he had hit a sore spot. "I love my cousin as much as you loved Donna, perhaps more so since I actually spent time with him." Again his verbal thrust struck deep. His master's extensive files on the entire Justice League, lifted from the database of the Batman himself, detailed how Donna and Diana had been separated as children.

Wonder Woman was too strong both in prowess and character to be shaken badly by the exchange and she kept her head held high. "I would not hurt innocent people by playing with their hearts. You presented to Donna exactly what it was she was looking for. You manipulated her…"

"I did no such thing," the Baron snapped. "My feelings for her were just as real as the ones she felt for me! Do not blame me because you and your sister are more like me than you want to admit. You are members of a superior race and that breeds a certain amount of arrogance."

"We Amazons do not lead children to slaughter…"

"So, in the entire history of your people, you have never murdered innocents?" He saw her start to speak but then she halted. There were some questionable actions taken by the Amazons in the distant past. "I thought so," he said, satisfaction in his voice.

"So, where does that leave us, Baron?" she asked. "If you truly had feelings for my sister, you would surrender now to face the justice she sought to uphold."

"Justice? I'm afraid that is a foreign concept to me. Where was your precious justice when Germany was being raped by the allies after 1918?" He shivered in the cold and pulled his collar up. It was unseasonably cold in this part of the country this year, but he felt that maybe it had more to do with all of the death around him. "I am tired of this debate, Princess. Nothing either one of us says here will change the other's mind, so why do we not call a truce?"

"There is the matter of the child," she reminded him.

He chuckled. "In honor of your sister, I will tell my cousin to free her. We will drop her at your embassy, so long as I am not harassed."

Wonder Woman straightened. A deal with the devil was sometimes a deal worth making. "This is not over between us," she warned him.

"It seems my destiny is forever tied to your family, Princess, but I assure you that my feelings for your sister will not keep me from continuing my master's mission." He then moved and walked by her. He had gotten several feet away when Wonder Woman called after him.

"She was falling in love with you," she said. She saw his shoulders stiffen and a smile crossed her face. As a warrior born, she could also take pleasure in a deep cut. "She spent her last months trying to sort out what it was about you that she admired so and I now realize what it was, Baron."

He stopped, refusing to turn around, letting his silence beckon her to continue speaking. "It was because she knew that for some reason, you were falling in love with her as well. I don't doubt your feelings for her; I never did. What hurt her the most was that she never knew how far it would go, she was afraid of what she would do for real love after being let down so many times. After you, she never even bothered to try again."

The Baron did not move for a moment and then one hand moved up to his face, but what he was doing was impossible to see. Then he began to move forward and Wonder Woman watched him, in the shadow of the monument to her sister, until he faded from sight.


End file.
